local_lovergirl

21🎀 Writer

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

Introduction & Master Lists

Name: ✧˚ · . My name is Elise ❥

Age: ✧˚ · . 21 years old (F)

Interests: ✧˚ · . I love reading and creative writing (poems, short stories, short little blurbs) ✧˚ · . I also enjoy listening to kpop, jazz, RnB, and pop songs. ✧˚ · . In my spare time I like watching tv shows, kdramas, anime and movies. The more it rips my heart out the better T-T

╰┈➤ Open to requests!!!

⋇⊶⊰🤍⊱⊷⋇

・❥・ Master Lists

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

NERD! Armin. AOT College AU pt. 2 (NSFW)

: ̗̀➛ summary: Part 2 of the NERD! Armin AOT College AU. Armin takes you to the bathroom of the frat house for some "alone time". Armin is a freak and needs you badly.

AOT COLLEGE AU: Part 1, Part 2

: ̗̀➛ mentions!: No use of (y/n), sorry y'all I can't do it. NERD! Armin! COLLEGE AU (yes this means everyone here is an adult). Armin's tongue piercing. soft praises, fingering, semi-public sex, exhibitionism fantasies (verbal only)

: ̗̀➛ author's note: All credit towards @ маша мышка! on Tiktok/ @ musapylsa on Tumblr for the art. Also take a look at Part 1 for some more context in the story. Leave a comment and a like! Send me requests for other stories you want me to write. Enjoy!

୨⎯ "story below" ⎯୧

When Armin Arlert had asked you if you wanted to "get out of here," you had mistakenly assumed it meant to fully leave the party and go off to the dorm room that you emptied out your wallet to pay for during the semester.

Except the blonde haired nerd had a totally different idea of what that meant. Rather just a different room, same house.

And so you found yourself trading the kitchen to being pressed against the bathroom sink as you both continued with sloppy kisses and soft groans.

You never would have ever predicted that you'd be one of the people to annoying take up the bathroom at a party. The very place that he warned you about when you originally invited him to not trust.

Well - you were now part of the reason why the such a place can't be seriously relied upon.

It was almost too easy to forget about where you were with Armin's lips capturing your own - desperate and needy.

The loud- now EDM music was booming, practically shaking the thin walls along with cheers and jeers from the other party goers which all seem to meld into some incoherent background noise. It ranked unimportant in comparison to his touch.

Your skin, scorchingly hot with desire and for a moment you wondered if Armin's felt the same. If he understood the flame that was consuming you. The one that belonged to years long hidden feelings for him.

It swirled dangerously with other confusing feelings. Those that were purposely left aside because you didn't want to confront them.

Not now.

Not when you had him wanting you back.

Except this wasn't how you envisioned this to pan out either. Gone was romanticized notions of being politely asked out, going on a cute coffee date and a bajillion other sweet fantasies. It was roughly pushed aside for hungry kisses in a small bathroom at the frat party Eren had invited you to.

"Armin," you gasp out against his lips as he lifts you up with surprising ease onto the bathroom counter and slots himself between your legs. You could feel just how aroused he was with his clothed erection, rubbing against you with dangerously pleasurable friction.

"You feel what you do to me?" he whispers hotly into your ear as he leaves a cascade of open-mouth kisses down your throat. "How hard you get me?"

"Yes," you breathe out the answer, already mentally reeling from the friction. It was like you were short circuiting. Everything was honing in on how he was making you feel in the stolen moment.

He pants softly in your ear as he grinds against you, unable to help himself. You bring your arms up to wrap around him, bringing you both as closely as you could get together like some strange humanoid reverse mitosis process.

"Can I see?" he slows down to pull back to look at your face. In his ocean blue eyes you could his softness, yet within its depths you saw whirls of unspoken yearning. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, "Can I see how wet you are?" He barely whispers.

"But it would be embarrassing for you to see me like that," you tell him quietly. The air thick with not so hidden desires and mounting needs.

"There's nothing about you that would be embarrassing," he murmurs reassuringly, pressing gentle kisses against your jawline. His hands come down to meet at your waist, but doesn't go any further as he waits for your answer. "Please?"

You falter a little at his soft plea. It was enough to relent against your better judgement.

"Ok then."

Armin's thin lips turn up into a small smile as he unbuckled your pants and easily pulled them down along with your panties, exposing your glistening pussy to the air.

He drags it down to hang, bunched up at your calves as he takes a finger to run through your slit.

"This all for me?" he asks, his touch almost reverent. "You're so beautiful."

Your face burns from the compliment. "It feels weird seeing you look so intently" you say shyly.

"Don't be shy now," he chuckles, bringing a wet finger to his lips to taste. He groans softly before bringing back the same one down to prod at your entrance.

"Can I?" He looks at you again.

"Armin...someone could come in here," you sputtered out, barely remembering where you are now.

"Then let's hurry so we don't get caught," he whispers against your lips as he sinks his finger into your wet heat. "There we go. Good girl." he murmurs as he captures your lips into another kiss, pumping his finger in long strokes.

"Armin-" you squeak only to get cut off from another deep kiss. He presses you more into the bathroom counter, using his other hand to fully take off your pants and panties so he could maneuver your legs to spread open for him without restriction.

You moan into his mouth as he pumps his finger in and out faster, hitting the exact spot that makes your mind go blank.

The pleasure overrode any rational thought, leaving nothing but the ache between your legs for and insatiable need for "more". You didn't think about how in your ideal world that you would rather have taken it slow with him. You definitely didn't have the time to sit on the wake up call that your childhood best friend was so very different than the version of him that you had idealized in your mind.

He swallowed your moans with more kisses, slipping in his pierced tongue into your mouth to explore while he added another finger. He was calculating all the while. Logging in the back of his mind which spots to press on more. Which ones elicited a louder moan or a caused your hips to buckle.

The wet sounds coming from your pussy filled the small bathroom, mingling in with your muffled moans.

Armin pulls away to eye your pleasured expression, groaning at the sight. His pants growing tighter with arousal.

"Are you close?" he leans forward to kiss down to your collarbone.

"I don't...I don't think I am," you pant out.

"C'mon sweet girl," he practically purrs against you. "I know you can give it to me."

"But Armin-"

"You don't want someone to come knocking and hearing how I'm taking care of you right?" He eyed you.

The thought of someone coming to use the bathroom while the two of you were very occupied inside sent a shiver down your spine. Armin smirked as he moved his fingers faster, his palm pressing down pressure to grind against your swollen clit.

"You just got tighter around my fingers," he noted aloud "Did you like the idea of almost getting caught?"

"No," you protested through moans, your hips grinding against his palm to get the much needed delicious friction against your throbbing bud.

"I think you do," he insisted with a smirk "What if I continued finger-fucking your pretty pussy if someone comes over?"

You nearly roll your eyes back in pleasure, a pressure building up in the lower depths of your stomach. Armin's filthy words, although a fantasy that you'd rather not explore, was making your inner walls greedily flutter around his fingers.

Armin leans into you to press hot sloppy kisses to your neck. "What if I don't stop when they enter? Gonna be a good girl for me while I show off how good you take my fingers deep inside you?"

"Armin please," you begged. For what even you didn't know. A plea for him to stop putting such a thought in your mind that was more arousing than you'd care to admit. Or perhaps a plea to get you off quicker so something like that wouldn't happen.

He groaned against your skin. He didn't anticipate your begging was going to be so beautiful to his ears. "I'll get you there, baby. I'll get you there." he mumbled. "Gonna have you fall apart from my fingers f'me."

At this point the wetness was so obscenely loud as it bounced off the echoes of the bathroom that there was no way that even if someone didn't hear your moans, that they wouldn't know what was going on in there.

You felt the pressure reach a breaking point as you finally reach your release, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer, your hips stuttering against his hand.

Armin let out a low moan, closing his eyes briefly for second as he shuddered against you. "Fuck, I just came in my pants like a teenager seeing you like that," he huffed as he got his bearings, pulling his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy.

He lifts up his wet digits to suck on carefully. "Delicious."

"I didn't know you were so good at that," you comment as you slowly descended from your high, your head ringing from reaching Cloud Nine.

"I didn't know either," he presses a soft kiss to your lips, breaths intermingling with one another.

There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door, that pulled you both out of your intimate moment.

"C'mon let's go, baby" he nudges you as he bends down to grab your discarded clothes.

Armin slots your legs in each pant leg with such gentleness, uncaring to the frantic knocking from the other side of the door.

You were right about one thing - the realization you had in the kitchen earlier. You didn't know anything about this version of Armin. The one that left your mind whirling with a difficult acceptance that he wasn't the boy you knew in high school- despite his rather unchanging appearance.

This wasn't the Armin you thought you could immerse yourself in to refuse the inevitable changes of adulthood. No, Armin was always like this. You just didn't want to see it.

And now he was dragging you into that world whether you liked it or not. A world that was filled with unexpected pleasure and the anticipated admission of feelings that you had previously thought you'd never get from him.

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

Attack on Titan Master List

Armin Arlert ╰┈➤ Let's Promise to See Beyond the Walls ╰┈➤ Survivor's Guilt ╰┈➤ NERD! Armin. AOT College AU ╰┈➤ NERD! Armin. AOT College AU pt. 2 (nsfw)

Jean Kirstein ╰┈➤ Tastes of Whiskey (nsfw) - (in progress)

Mikasa Ackerman ╰┈➤ untitled writing blurb (1) (angst)

Reiner Braun ╰┈➤ Hell is Empty and All the Devils Are Here

Ymir ╰┈➤ I Lived Nothing But Lies

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

NERD!Armin. AOT College AU

: ̗̀➛ summary: You get invited to Eren's frat house party and bring Armin along. Little did you know that he'd take something to gain the courage to express his feelings for you...in a not so subtle way.

: ̗̀➛ mentions!: No use of (y/n), sorry y'all I can't do it. NERD! Armin who's freakier than he lets on. Soft Armin mentions because I see him as a soft lover. COLLEGE AU (yes this means everyone here is an adult). Underage drinking. Mentions of being high. Armin's tongue piercing.

: ̗̀➛ author's note: All credit towards @ маша мышка! on Tiktok/ @ musapylsa on Tumblr for that art piece that inspired this fanfic. Depending on how this turns out I'll write out an nsfw version of what happens after the party. Leave a comment and a like! Enjoy!

୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧

Armin Arlert was your typical nerd. Well- almost.

He was type to be academically gifted in all manners of subjects without really even trying. But beyond that he managed to insert himself into nearly every pop culture fandom he could think of and immersed himself almost obsessively in digital analysis pages with other intellectuals that could itch his genius brain in the way he needed it.

So in his spare time when he wasn’t consuming books at an alarming rate, he was nose deep into whatever far corner space of the internet he’s nestled himself deeply in. And when pulled out he had a penchant for deep articulated thoughts and ideas that usually would get glossed over by his filthy mouth and mind.

This was such a constant occurrence it was generally normalized in your small friend group consisting of Eren, Mikasa and Armin himself. Evidentially so, you were almost glad that he didn’t seem to stray away from this. It was predictable amongst the inevitably of change as you continued to grow up.

How wrong you were.

Of course when you all tirelessly worked to get into Trost University things began to change in quick, sudden bursts. Eren, for one, vied to go into a Fraternity and was able to get accepted. It was a combination of Greek words and letters you weren’t familiar with nor cared enough to memorize, but the word on campus was that they were nicknamed The Scouts.

And so in real time you began to witness the sprightly, young, ambitious boy who didn’t give a damn what others thought about him- care about his appearance, work out and lose himself in the parties that The Scouts would endlessly throw. But you knew that despite his sudden sex appeal that he only had eyes for Mikasa, who also found her style in her early adult years at the University in darker shades and gothic styles.

But the parties never suited you. You were studious like Armin and often studied with him in the on-campus library. He was a Marine Biology major. It was fitting for him, whom in his adolescence never seemed to shut up about ocean and exploration. Now he could pursue his dreams and the sea which was as blue as his eyes.

And yet despite your shy nature, Eren had managed to convince you to attend a massive party that he was throwing with The Scouts to mark the end of the grueling semester. So naturally you convinced Armin to come along too, who promptly made an off handed comment about how you could never trust a bathroom at a frat house- someone would probably take up the space for other more “important” things.

The music was playing at a blaring volume with the bass turned up high, thumping just as loudly, practically synching up with your heart’s rhythm. The frat house was dark with the exception of multiple colored strobe lights and the kitchen lights that were dimmed to see the snacks and various alcoholic beverages that lined the counter with stacks upon stacks of red solo cups.

The air felt hot and thick with the crowd of bodies that surrounded you. It was almost suffocating amongst the strangers who you didnt know and who giggled and swayed to the beat of the music. Not to mention, Armin had temporarily disappeared in his signature baggy layered clothes.

You turn towards the punch bowl, which was no doubt filled with mystery drinks and lots and lots of juice to mask the sting and filled it up in a cup. It made you feel less of a sore thumb in an environment you knew nothing about. Mikasa was off with Eren somewhere, probably playing pool so it felt even more isolating.

The music switched to another track you weren’t familiar with. All electronic with no vocals. You leaned against the counter of the kitchen taking a sip of the questionable punch making a slight wince at the burn that went down your throat.

You could see Armin’s straw colored hair emerge from the crowd towards you. He was…different. His walk went from pulling into himself and meek towards a confident saunter towards you. His cheeks flushed with a twinge of pink.

“Where were you?” you asked, barely being able to hear your own voice through the loud music, setting aside your drink to some random surface.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve always had feelings for him since childhood, but his confident change in demeanor made your heart race and skin prickle with anticipation.

You took the moment to really look at him. Here he was, a vision of the past- an outwardly immovable piece towards the future with his favorite baggy green t-shirt that he refused to throw out and his bob hair cut he would routinely get. A creature of habit that you found comfort in amongst the whirlwind of change. Yet, he was standing there with an almost predatory look in his eyes.

"With Connie," he finally responds "You know what? I feel great. Just spectacular right now. "

"Great?" you repeat furrowing your brows. "Wait did he give you something? What the fuck Armin? Are you high?"

As Armin closes the distance, there's a loud whoop and all the lights in the kitchen turn off to descend the last lighted part of the house into darkness with the neon glow of party favor glow sticks lighting up silhouettes of other party goers in the near by radius.

"I've never been better," he says in a low voice. Far too low to properly hear him over the raging music. He steps closer, pressing you against the counter, effectively caging you in with his arms on either side.

There's a beat, a pause that must have taken no more than a few seconds that felt like it a lifetime. His hungry gaze lingering on your lips, the smell of his cologne that filled your lungs, and the world that seemed to melt away all but engulfed the ticking seconds.

"I'll prove it to you," he murmured, now so close that you could finally hear him. He leans over to brush his lips against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft, just like him, but held an underlying strained desire for more.

You couldn't help but kiss back, his lips far more intoxicating than any alcoholic drink. He pressed himself closer, cupping your face as he kissed deeper, eliciting a soft groan from his lips.

It was a passionate flurry of deep messy kisses that made you forget where you were. He was too good at this, painfully good that it made your heart race. His leg slot between your own as the space between you both became nonexistent, bringing a haze of need that struck the deepest corners of your being.

The pressure of his leg led to a gasp that Armin saw as an opening, slipping in his tongue inside your mouth to explore. There was a small foreign sensation of cool metal that brushed against your own tongue that made you pull back.

Armin panted softly, his glasses slightly foggy. It was barely visible, but you were able to see a small piercing in the middle of his tongue that you never knew was there that peaked through his pants.

"Was that alright?" he asked softly, almost too innocently as if his kisses didn't scream out a "seasoned pro."

That's when it hit you. Armin wasn't as stuck in time as you had thought he was. Even if he wore the same dinky shirt that you'd tease him mercilessly over or kept the same bobbed cut from your high school days. It was you that wanted to stand against the power of time and stop the cascading change that wanted to wash over you.

Armin had changed slowly in his own way. You just didn't want to see it. You didn't know this version of him. The one that you caught glimpses of through his dirty jokes that he'd sprinkle into conversation. You weren't familiar with the man that stood in front of you with pent up sexual desires. Who just wasn't some innocent little nerd that fretted over analysis posts and the ocean.

"Yeah," you breathe out. Your gaze lingering on his kiss bruised lips.

His eyes shifted between your eyes and your own lips. Then as if it took some great will power, he pulled his leg that slotted between your legs back to give you space.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he whispered into your ear.

It was a dangerous question. Not that Armin was inherently dangerous, but rather that you knew that as soon as you left the frat party, you'd lose yourself to abandoned inhibitions. Anything to have his lips on you for a little longer.

You didn't know this version of him, but perhaps this was the night that you might get well acquainted.

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

Survivor's Guilt. Armin AOT fic

: ̗̀➛ summary: Armin struggling with the choice that gave him the Colossal Titan. How could he be chosen to live over Erwin Smith?

: ̗̀➛ mentions!: Survivor's Guilt. Mentions of PTSD symptoms. Armin being self deprecating and referencing his low self worth that he had in the series.

: ̗̀➛ author's note: It was hard writing this only in that it hurts knowing how much he hated himself during Attack on Titan. Especially since I'm trying to delve into his mindset and keep this as canonically accurate as I could. I have a soft spot for Armin too. My poor boy.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Armin Arlert couldn't understand why they chose him.

Why out of both Erwin Smith and himself that Captain Levi had made the decision to give him a second chance at life. Honestly, he had wished that they didn't.

It would have been the choice that made the most sense after all. The Commander of the Survey Corps or him, who didn't have as much experience. If they hadn't brought him back then the constant glowering and whispers from the other soldiers wouldn't haunt his every move.

In doing so it drudged up memories of that day.

It woke Armin up in the middle of some nights, the dreams of the searing heat from the Colossal Titan's steam that cooked his innards and charred his flesh. The pain of that day etched into his mind and was invisibly graphed into his cells.

It was the look of death - the Colossal's skinless gargantuan face, blank and unmoving. Bertholdt had no qualms of baking him to the brink of death that day. Nor did he have any problems of obliterating the lives of the Survey Corps members in the process of his transformation.

The regiment was utterly brutalized.

Decimated, with barely anyone left. As if their mere coincidental luck of surviving was nothing more than that of a cockroach in a disaster zone. Surviving on pure chance.

But Armin's revival was almost a curse. One that he seemed to pay the price for each waking moment.

Haunted wasn't the correct term for how he felt.

No. It was tortured.

The constant swirls of self loathe that was present prior to the incident seemed to be even more present than ever. No matter how much Eren and Mikasa reminded him of his worth, it couldn't seem to match up to his self perception. Nor could their reassurance relieve the ever growing pressures of being the late Commander Erwin's replacement.

The guilt was overwhelming some days when it was far too quiet and his thoughts took over. Inescapable almost.

Why did he get the chance to live when so many others had died that day? Couldn't they see how useless he was as he saw himself to be? Making plans that just happened to get the job done, a gamble really. Contributing nothing but "half baked" ideas that others praised his genius for.

Couldn't they see how weak he was inside or how he punished himself for that very fact?

Why couldn't he be strong like the others? And why did he feel that no matter what he would end up doing, that he'd be in this permanent state of watching their backs as they move forward? A mind cursed to think five steps ahead and yet he felt as though his feet could not follow.

Why did I have to live?

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

|| art from Pinterest

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝖤𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖣𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾

: ̗̀➛ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Reiner Braun's inner dialogue while he was in Paradis. Taking place while he was in the 104th Cadet Corps.

: ̗̀➛ 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈!: conflicting roles between being a "Warrior" and a "Soldier". Can't seem to wrap his head around why he's forming a soft spot for them.

: ̗̀➛ 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: I'm going on an Attack on Titan binge so I'm just going to write a couple fics about it while I'm on it. It's honestly such a wonderfully written story and I really want to encapsulate the characters canonically.

୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧

Reiner Braun knew the devils of Paradis were cut off from the world, but he didn't expect it to be this extent. The painfully regurgitated nonsense of being the last of Humanity, that the human race rested upon their shoulders.

It was pitiful. Truly. Right?

This life was different in every imaginable way, but there was something comforting about it. The common enemies were titans; large (and honestly hideous) humanoid monstrosities that wandered around ceaselessly waiting for the next taste of human flesh. Completely in-discriminatory of class, age and importance.

Rather for once, in this strange primitive dystopia, he was able to see what life would be like if Eldians weren't ostracized. What life could be like if they weren't the immediate societal common enemy. Or a life without the constant reminders of being dirty no-good devils and perpetuations of perverted origins shoved down their throats since birth.

In fact, it was almost humorous that they knew nothing about it, but how could they when they were so clueless about the true order of the world? But Reiner didn't want to think about that right now. He was a soldier.

No road left, but the one that leads to the end

...Or was he a warrior?

It must have been the former. Yes, that's right.

A good solider that fought for the sake of humanity. The type that took the lead. The type that was so altruistically selfless towards comrades. The big brother type that earned boisterous praises and slaps on the back from grateful looking faces. The one who would never leave a man behind.

Yes, that's who he was.

The good warrior solider that followed orders to the very end.

But when it was night and Reiner's thoughts were too loud in his head, that horrible sinking realization of sleeping along side his victims would make him nearly sick to his stomach.

Their recounts of that day and the lives that they had to forfeit spoken during meal times or as they're prepping for sleep were haunting. The kids who no longer had the right to be kids, orphaned and alone.

Those were the nights that made him feel alien in his own skin. An imposter. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Those were the nights he wanted to go home the most. Back to Marley and to the people who couldn't give less of a shit about his existence, other than his immense power that he wielded.

If only he didn't get to truly meet and understand them as he did. The Reiner that left Marley was unrecognizable now. A distant memory that he held onto by it's fraying seams. He didn't know where the facade began and ended by now. The line blurred so much over the years in training.

No road left, but the one that leads to the end.

That's right.

It would have all been worth it once he goes home and this is some bad memory.

He was a soldier warrior after all. And Reiner was going to see the mission through to the end.

»»———-　　———-««

|| all images are from Pinterest

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

: ̗̀➛spoiler: Attack on Titan Season 4 in the story below!

: ̗̀➛ mentions!: Angst(!) Mikasa Ackerman POV. Stages of grief. Sasha Braus. Armin Arlert cameo, gone if you blink. Canon accurate descriptions of the characters!

୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧

Sasha was dead.

Mikasa Ackermann felt like her heart was ripped apart and trampled underfoot. Many comrades over the years had fallen, but nothing could amount to the sheer pain that ripped through each fiber of her being.

It was as if her world view narrowed down into this very moment. Armin's sobs seemed to meld into the chaos, a white noise in the background in comparison to the screams that ripped from her throat.

Begging. Pleading. Sobbing vehemently over her lifeless body.

Sasha wasn't dead. This couldn't be her body on the floor of the airship, glassy eyes blankly looking at the ceiling and blood pooling from her tightened bandages.

No, she was elsewhere. She had to be.

Sasha was eating a steamed potato in the comforts of the mess hall back at HQ. Or was it that she was galavanting around the town square with her partner in crime, Conny Springer, spending a good portion of her paycheck on food stalls?

Mikasa was on her hands and knees, wishing fruitlessly that this was some bad dream.

Sasha couldn't be dead. She was visiting her family's horse stables and the sweet little Kaya that she saved four years ago. Or perhaps she was visiting Nicolo's kitchen. The Braus girl couldn't stop talking about his cooking or his sweet nature and stolen kisses from the Marleyan captive.

Mikasa was scared to touch her, as if at any second Sasha's chest would heave with new breaths of life.

It remained deathly still.

She didn't care how loud she was as wave after new wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. Quite frankly she couldn't care less about the numerous pairs of eyes on the spectacle.

Sasha Braus wasn't just the potato girl that her reputation seemed to be centered on. She was strong, brave and carried missions with the fine tuned instincts of a hunter. Above all, she was uplifting and her crazy shenanigans helped dull the crushing weight of their dim reality.

Mikasa's heart burned and ached with the longing of her friend, her roommate that she will never get another night to sleep in the same barrack's room with. The sadness threatened to swallow her whole and drown her in it's abyss.

And she let it.

Sasha was dead and there was nothing bringing her back.

[roseforviolet]

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒖𝒓𝒚

|| "So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose. Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me" - Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

｡･ﾟﾟ･ summary: Zane Ro'Meave around Season 2 of Phoenix Drop High. Self reflection of his own self to the reader, but ultimately he chooses to make a name for himself in a less than ideal manner by making The Jury.

｡･ﾟﾟ･ mentions!: (loser!) Zane Ro'Meave. Zane tired of being looked down a upon. Changing for the better <<< changing for the worst. Established close friendship w/ reader. hints of reader (f) liking voices if you squint (sorry y'all that's a projection of mine). Garroth, Vylad and Aphmau cameo appearance. your POV, no use of (y/n).

｡･ﾟﾟ･ author's note: enjoy!

୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧

By all accounts Zane Ro'Meave was a self imposed, pitiful loser who unfortunately was never graced with the proper socialization skills needed to navigate Phoenix Drop High School.

However, that meant according to association and the tedious finicky thing about reputation; you were also at the bottom barrel of the school by being his friend. The only thing relatively saving you was the fact that you were in sports, offering you the ability to know a plethora of people, forming camaraderie driven relationships.

That never stopped girls during the bathroom breaks from asking you completely unprompted how on Earth that you managed to "stand him" and that he was "so annoying" for whatever class they had managed to share with him.

The odd friendship was a result of sitting next to each other during homeroom, both skittish new freshmen, and you had the luck of being the new kid. Forced to watch painfully on as everyone seemed to know each other from their middle school years was bad enough, but swallowing your shyness to make sure you're not a complete social outcast was even harder.

Which is how you've ended up on a park bench beside the emo-looking boy, passively entertained by his older brother, Garroth, his half brother, Vylad, and the ever perky Aphmau; all of whom played soccer out on the large open field.

Over the course of your friendship, Zane had opened up about the weight of being overshadowed by his glorious golden child older brother. You could see the notable difference yourself without him having said anything. A completely polar opposite pair that it even competes with the sun and moon.

The sun was a good way to describe Garroth. A personified golden retriever, a blonde haired and blued eyed gentleman who happened to be good at everything he touched. It would be a lie to say that he hasn't peaked your interest. Even his voice was terribly attractive.

But as it happened, his attention was captured by the spunky Aphmau who always seemed high energy and was absolutely kind to everyone she met. A stark difference to your calm persona, (not saying you were any less kind). Jealousy was a bitch, but you buried it as best as you could.

You lulled your head to the side, watching as they played on. Zane had invited you spontaneously, complaining over the phone about how he was dragged out of the house and that he was going to be bored without you.

There was something about these damn Ro'Meave brothers and their voices.

Not too long ago, Zane was hit in the throat by a volleyball which seemed to strangely expedite his squeaky late bloomer prepubescent voice into something far deeper and mature. You could shamelessly listen to him all day if he'd let you.

However, these days it consisted of needing to prove himself to get out of the dumpster fire of a reputation that he somehow dug himself into freshman year. Ranting about how he had to change the "loser" title that he earned to something "cooler" and more "badass".

"You don't understand," he hissed "It's already set in stone. Cemented in everyone's mind that I'm some pathetic loser. They'll carry it on year after year until we graduate from that shithole."

"Maybe you need a do-over," you suggested "New clothes. New vibes. New you next school year. One that doesn't involve getting with those sketchy Shadow Knights. Seriously, Zane, it's only making you look worse."

He gave a deep sigh, one interrupted by the cheering from Vylad from a distance as Aphmau kicked the ball into the goal.

"You know what?"

"Hm?" you hummed in response.

"I don't need them. I can make my own group. A cooler group. Then everyone won't look down on me," he ascertained, the plan slowly forming behind his pale blue eyes.

"Yeah. That's right. If I can't make them like me. I'll make them fear me instead," he continued on, laughing a little too gleefully. "I'll call it The Jury and you watch. I'll run the place."

You weren't sure if you should take him seriously or not. It sounded a little too maniacal and outlandish for your own liking. "And where do I fit in the picture?" you asked testingly.

"My right hand of course," he said matter of factly, clearly pleased with himself. "My loyal hand that remains beside me."

He turns to look at you, his visible eye trained on you with such a scary look of determination that it nearly sends a shiver down your spine.

"You won't leave me right? You can't leave me." There was a certain desperateness that reminded you of yourself a year ago, sticking by him during freshman year.

"No Zane. I won't leave you," you say to placate him. "I'll join that Jury of yours."

You weren't going to leave him even if the thought of "running the school" seemed like an absolutely absurd dream. Even after seeing him turn to the wrong crowd for notoriety.

No. You couldn't leave him.

You too had no one else, just like him.

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

"If there's a prize for rotten judgement I guess I've already won that"

Megara knew better to lament Love was hardly paradise Not something worthy of sacrifice At least death could embrace And lies couldn't be laced By false promises of eternal affairs Death's inescapable finality Limitless and burdened totality

"He's the Earth and heaven to you"

Hercules belonged to both too A demi-god the world adored Courtship belonged to those Beautiful fools and dreamers Stupid girls who were believers Death's hands held her more Like lovers, an obsessor It would hurt more to fall For someone that heaven touched A sinner without a soul to touch

"I won't say I'm in love"

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

I Lived Nothing But Lies

̗̀➛ summary: Around Season 2 in Attack on Titan when Ymir decides to go with Reiner and Bertholdt. Her basically looking over her life and how it all seemed to follow a similar pattern.

: ̗̀➛ mentions! Spoilers if you haven't watched the show. Canon accurate Ymir!! Ymir being brutally honest about herself. Imposter syndrome. Trying to mask her new life as being authentic when it's anything but. Yearning for Historia. wlw.

: ̗̀➛ author's note: While binge watching Attack on Titan I realized just how complex her character is that I haven't appreciated before. I wanted to try out writing her character. Send me requests of characters if you want me to write about them!

୨⎯ "story below" ⎯୧

Ymir never knew authenticity. The word foreign against the her sharp tongue. It was something she told herself that she had to change to be, a much needed 180 from her previous life 60 odd years ago.

So instead she found herself preaching the very thing she knew next to nothing about to the beautiful doe-eyed Christa Lenz who was far too nice for her own good.

They were the same, you see. Cut from the same cloth of falsified identities and the sheer will to live when others made it nearly impossible to bear this horrible joke of a thing called life.

No. It was Historia, not Christa.

Historia.

What a beautiful name. Ironic for the girl who's past seemed to never leave her adorable lips. Not that it mattered anyways. Ymir had a good sense of what it was. Her ultimate trump card. A leverage to ensure her survival.

That was until Historia's blonde hair shined just a little too much like spun gold as she whizzed by in her Omni Directional Gear. And her unwavering (and almost sickening) kindness behind teary ocean blue eyes seemed to seep deep into her own guarded walls.

Historia had a chance to be authentic. To be true to herself. It was too late now for Ymir, who clutched onto Reiner's Armored Titan back as they made it their goal to leave that godforsaken island of Paradis.

Damn it. And she still didn't tell her how she felt. It wasn't something to be said hurriedly in a letter (which she did anyways), but was something she would have rather confessed in person. A heartfelt truthful admission of feelings she kept simmering inside.

It would be the only truly truthful thing she'd utter. Not hidden behind some smart ass remark or crude retort, a mechanism to keep others at bay.

But what was she even thinking?

To live a selfish existence on borrowed time? No. Not borrowed time. A borrowed life. Marcel or whomever she ate all those years ago to have an extra chance at living. But she would have chosen the most selfish life in existence if it meant to be with her only reason for existing.

Ymir saw the way Reiner and Bertholdt looked at her during rest breaks as they covered titan territory in Wall Maria. This person must have meant a lot to them.

It was disgusting.

She wasn't even a false Goddess anymore and yet she's lived within the Walls of Paradis as another pretender. A holder of a (not so secret now) ability that she had stolen.

No matter what she did, all that tedious effort to live for herself, all for naught. A life of nothing, but lies. A pretender who simply found herself with a new mask to wear. A conundrum of contradictory claims of authenticity, selfishness and care for only one other person in this miserable existence.

Ymir knew that she was going to die. Just like a little over 60 years ago when her facade was ripped from her the first time.

If only she had a little more time.

Then she would have asked Historia to be her wife.

[mojavedoll]

not all angels are in heaven. for example i’m mostly at home

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

Everything Goes According To Plan

|| "And if you want to use me I could be your puppet. 'Cause I'm the devil who's searching for redemption" -I Want To Be Your Slave by Måneskin

｡･ﾟﾟ･ summary: Aphmau Minecraft Diaries au - Zane Ro'Meave on the path to world domination (per usual) Mentions of death, manipulation, power hungry Zane and twisted relationship between a deity (oc) and mortal.

｡･ﾟﾟ･ author's note: Back in 2016 I thought to myself "wouldn't it be interesting if Zane was manipulated by Death, but they also have some form of a romantic relationship?" Then I realized many years later that this idea wasn't original at all. Marvel's Lady Death and Thanos beat me to it in comics in the 1990s.

｡･ﾟﾟ･ But I still wondered anyways how it could have turned out if I tried to write it now. The Minecraft movie is out and it brought back memories of watching Aphmau religiously. Thank you Jess for taking part in raising me ❣

୨⎯ "story below" ⎯୧

It was difficult for Zane Ro'Meave to be a loyal devout follower of Lady Irene.

Now let's not pretend that he actually cared about the widely revered deity. It was just a means to an end. A way to gain power as the second born son of the Ro'Meave family while the heir, his brother Garroth, was busy playing guard.

It was rather frustrating.

Everything was handed to Garroth on a silver platter, practically dropped in his lap by Lady Irene herself, and yet despite his blatant refusal of the role, his stupid Father still held out hope for him.

So Zane found himself as the High Priest of O'kasis. The "most devout and pure" follower of the Goddess. Holding important sermons and masses, reciting hollow words in the holy grounds of ornate cathedrals. Rather, the difficulty to properly worship wasn't founded in his ulterior motives. No, being under the cover of the great Goddess to mold his plans into fruition made him ever the believer.

It was the fact that there was another that had caught his eye. A Goddess who's forgotten tomes were stashed away, seemly hidden on purpose in the back of otherwise carefully maintained religious texts.

Lady Midnight. It was easy to see why her existence was so carefully tucked away; a Goddess of Death. Midnight, other than her name, a transition from the end of a day and the beginning of another. The association with the darkness and divine intervention.

Now, if they were smart, they should have burned the tomes. Not leave it for anyone else to find, and certainly not for Zane Ro'Meave to study.

She came to him in the dead of night while he was still climbing the tedious ranks of the church and whispered honeyed words of understanding and reassurance.

Lady Midnight often spoke to him in soft, low tones. A certain deepness in her feminine speech that was too attractive and made it far too easy to forget her malevolent nature. She was clever, that much Zane would give her credit for. A snake, whose weight he's grown comfort in, slowly wrapping around him, while providing with the warmth that he'd always been missing. A creature of ultimate rebirth - death.

She was sympathetic to his plight and reveled his unquenched thirst for power.

"Most men chase greatness. You wear it like a birthright," she'd whisper sweetly in his ear as he poured over secret plans of ascension and powerful relics of by-gone eras that she'd guide him to find.

And when she took a human form, nights were elongated by their sweaty bodies and breathy moans. Lost in pleasures that made it difficult to determine where one began and the other ended.

It became a twisted entanglement of all consuming lust, not just physical, but for the need of power and enabled encouragements to pursue it to the very end no matter the cost.

Zane Ro'Meave wasn't sure who was manipulating who. Or if he cared enough about those things if his plans were succeeding or more over that it felt so good doing it. The need for her was symbiotic and another unidentifiable emotion that swirled more complexly than that of a kaleidoscope that he couldn't quite place.

And yet these simpletons dare try to stop him? He almost couldn't fault them for not seeing the bigger picture of a grand plan practically ladened in gold.

He was courting death itself while being a supposed follower of the light.

It took one to know the light to see the darkness that it casts.

»»———-　　———-««

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

"𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴"

: ̗̀➛ summary: Young Armin Arlert telling the reader all about his plan to see the sea. Taken place days before the fall of Shinganshina. Just a really wholesome fanfic

: ̗̀➛ mentions!: Fluff! Established friendship - you're his neighbor that he's close friends with. No use of (y/n) sorry y'all I just can't do it. Female reader. You have a growing attraction towards him, but it's still budding.

: ̗̀➛ author's note: enjoy!

୨⎯ "𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀" ⎯୧

Armin Arlert was nothing short of a certified genius.

A truly gifted kid for his limited knowledge, feasting upon the words of any book that he came in contact with. That, at least, kept his intellectual mind full, even when his stomach wasn't.

You both were a few house down from each other. His grandpa always giving a short polite wave as a send off whenever Armin left his home, usually carrying some big heavy book in tow.

This time you both huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, leg pressed against leg by the canal that flowed through Shinganshina. You told him it was your favorite spot. There was something about hearing the running water that was particularly calming.

And so his ancient looking book splayed across both your legs as he eagerly pointed to each page, complete with detailed explanations and even pictures for reference.

"This is the ocean. It's also called the "sea." It's suppose to be so vast and full of salt that not even merchants, if they tried their whole lives, could put a dent into it." he taught to you.

"The sea," you repeated. The small illustration showed a large body of water that seemed to expand beyond the horizon. It was fascinating that such a thing could even exist, if it even did.

Armin liked it when he told you about this very illegal book that his family secretly owned. Eren would look soak up the pages like a human sponge, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Mikasa was quieter, reserved, but still listened politely. It was hard to read the young Ackermann.

But you were different. You were an intellectual like he was. Not only did you listen to him like a disciple in a church, but you theorized along side him. You were able to keep up with his intellect that would itch a certain part of his brain just the right way.

It was refreshing to say the least.

"I wonder what kind of blue it would be?" you wondered aloud, tilting your head just slightly to look at him. It didn't take much to feel self conscious about the close proximity when it finally hit you, but you weren't willing to move just yet. Not when you liked the look on his face scrunch up as he pondered the answer with that big beautiful brain of his.

He always seemed to have an answer.

"Well, if this book is correct and it is a deep body of water, then wavelengths of light would be absorbed, scattered and reflected in a way that might contribute to a deeper blue. The depth of the water also plays a part too." He turns to you too, his words frustratingly not leaving his mouth as fast as his brain was thinking it.

"In fact, if we were to compare it to a lake, we can most likely surmise that it may be of similar color, but perhaps it might be more richer," he continued on, lost in his own theorizes yet again.

A deep blue. Huh.

As he blabbed on and on about the "sea," the sunlight hit his face in just the right angle that made his eyes shine seemly brighter than it already was - powered by the pursuit of knowledge.

"Let's promise to see beyond the walls," Armin's voice broke you out of your trance. "We have to see it. We have to see the sea. There has to be more out there than just living like this."

There was such conviction in his voice that it was hard to say no in the moment. How could you say no? But not for the same sake of needing to see what's beyond the walls. That dream belonged to Armin.

After all you had to see it at least once too.

Could you harness the same endearing passion as he did if you looked at the ocean? Perhaps you'll be able to, if you did. Just a little bit. That's all you wanted. You had to know.

Would the ocean be just as beautiful blue as his eyes?

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

୨⎯ "Master List" ⎯୧

✧˚ · . poems

ꕥ Smoke ꕥ I Still Remember Your Birthday ꕥ Burdensome Memories ꕥ I Won't Say (I'm in Love)

✧˚ · . writing drabbles

anime: ╰┈➤ Attack on Titan:

tv shows: ╰┈➤ House of the Dragon: (coming soon) random: ╰┈➤Aphmau Zane Ro'meave: - Everything Goes According to Plan (Minecraft Diaries au) - The Jury (Phoniex Drop High au)

[pinkbowsaroundmysoul]

I passed by, sparing only but a glance Burdensome memories Gates and locked Protected from recollection I was just a number to you But you’ll spend a lifetime with me

|| 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖯𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍

[feelslikesugarinme777]