hii! welcome to my page :)) 18 yo, I currently write for twisted wonderland and attack on titan!! possibly other fandoms in the future :). other shows/games i love include naruto, black butler, l&ds, saiki k... a lot more i can't remember 😓
I made this blog as a creative outlet and a way to write more, so if you have any requests please don’t hesitate to send them!!
Vil Schoenheit is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, and you feel like the luckiest person in the world that he knows you by name.
It’s just because Crewel randomly assigned you as lab partners for this project, of course, but still. You like to think he puts some thought into his team assignments, so they’re not completely random, and you got partnered with Vil because you’ve worked together before, and Crewel knew you wouldn’t bother him about his career.
You try not to bother Vil. Even though he’s drop dead gorgeous, and a super famous actor, and, oh, also, you’ve had a massive crush on him since, like, your first year. All things considered, though, you think you actually manage to act pretty normal around him, especially this past week that you’ve been working together.
Except that you hate doing your makeup, and every day for the past week you’ve been waking up early to line your eyes and put on sparkly eyeshadow. Not that Vil’s noticed, and not that you expect him to, but you just feel better making an effort while you’re around him. Is that stupid?
Yes, you tell yourself, staring at the eyeshadow palette sitting in front of you on your bed. You’re being stupid, and you’re so tired. Just because he’d tell you you should, if he bothered to notice, doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you’ve been wearing makeup every day so far doesn’t mean anyone will care if you suddenly stop.
You shut the palette, placing it back on your bedside table. Today’s the last day of your project, anyway, and then you can go back to your regularly scheduled admiring-Vil-from-a-distance. Right?
-------
“You’re not wearing makeup today,” Vil says, immediately, as soon as you sit down in the classroom.
You blink at him, surprised. “Um… yeah, I’m not.”
Vil frowns, taking you by the chin and looking you over. You feel like a creep for wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves.
“Well, why not?” he demands.
“I just didn’t feel like it, I dunno. It’s hard to get it right,” you say. You’re trying not to focus on his hands. Or his lips, which is hard because he's leaning close.
He scoffs and lets you go. “Ridiculous. You just haven’t found what works for you yet.”
You shrug, pulling your notes from your bag.
“I also just wanted to sleep in,” you say. “I had a few big tests yesterday, so I wanted to catch up on my rest. Doing my makeup takes a while, so I figured it wasn’t worth waking up early for.”
Vil sighs. “Sleep is important, but makeup is always worth it. How else are you supposed to make yourself more beautiful?”
You fiddle with your pen, staring down at your papers. “I don’t need to be beautiful,” you say, quietly. “It’s not like anyone would notice anyway.”
Vil doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even have a chance to before Crewel calls for class to start. You do your work next to Vil, trying to pretend your ears aren’t burning. You can’t believe he noticed you weren’t wearing makeup. You can’t believe he bothered mentioning it to you. How embarrassing is that?
As soon as class is over, some kid from Pomefiore rushes over to Vil, something about a messed-up potion and smudged eyeliner and a project due tomorrow spilling out of him. You take advantage of the distraction to sneak away, still feeling the weight of Vil’s judgement on your makeup-less face.
As you’re walking to your next class, kicking rocks off the path and kicking yourself for being so stupid, for deciding to wear makeup in the first place and for deciding to stop, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn around and Vil is right there, all six feet of breathtaking beauty. You swear your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His jaw is tight.
“Must you run away so fast after class?” he presses. “We weren't done talking.”
You blink. “Oh… sorry, I thought we were? And it looked like that kid needed your help.”
Vil scoffs, crossing his arms. “Please. That took two minutes. You just wanted to get out of there.”
It's not like you can tell him that you were embarrassed, that you care that much about his opinion of you. You just shrug and fiddle with the strap of your bag.
He stares at you for another few seconds, and you feel yourself splintering under his gaze. Finally he sighs.
“What time do you wake up?” Vil says.
You stare at him, surprised by the question. “Uh… like 7.30? I guess?”
He tsks, giving your bare face another once-over. “I'll be there at six,” he announces, in a tone that invites no argument. Not that you have any time to say anything, anyway, because he promptly turns on his heel and strides away. Maybe he was thinking to give you a taste of your own medicine.
You slap your hands on your cheeks, watching his back as he walks away. How does he have such a nice walk? You idiot, of course it’s because he’s a model. Or is he a model because he has a nice walk?
You slap your cheeks again. Focus, focus. What did he mean, he'll be there at 6? Where? Your room?? What was he going to do there?
You turn his words and his face and his walk over in your head all the way to your next class.
-------
You could’ve sworn you set your alarm for 5:30, but it isn’t until six o’clock that you jolt awake to a knock at your door. You blink bleary eyes at your clock, trying to make sense of the numbers. Six… oh.
You stare at your clock another moment more. So Vil did mean he’d be at your room at six. But you just woke up. You’re still in your pjs, hair still a ridiculous mess. You can’t let him see you like this.
You can’t not let him in.
You feel your ears, the back of your head, your whole face burning as you open the door. Vil’s there, of course, as immaculate as ever.
“Hi,” you say. “I, um. My alarm didn’t go off.”
He doesn’t even bat an eye at the way you look. He just pushes the bag he’s holding into your arms.
“This is for you,” Vil says. “They should all be your perfect shade.”
You’re stunned into silence, peering into the bag to find every kind of makeup you know, plus a few you’ve never even heard of. Vil pushes past you into your dorm room while you’re distracted, crossing to your bed and smoothing down the covers with one clean motion.
“Sit down,” he commands, so you sit. He takes the bag back from you and stares at you for a moment. You stare back, trying not to get lost in his eyes. Finally he sighs, leaning down towards you.
“If I give you this makeup,” Vil says, “and I show you how to use it right, and you know I’ll notice and care about the way you look, will you actually use it? Will you actually try? I have no interest in helping people who have no interest in self-improvement.”
You’re nodding before you’ve even finished processing the thought.
“I’d love to know how to use makeup, and I want to be… beautiful, I guess. And I know practicing will make it easier, but I just always feel like I’m doing everything wrong and I’m going to form bad foundations and pick up bad habits and I just-”
You fall silent, embarrassed that you forgot yourself and started rambling in front of Vil. But he’s nodding along.
“Good,” he tells you. “You’ve clearly thought about this, so I can tell you’ll have the drive to actually follow through.”
Vil starts taking the products out of the bag and laying them out on the bed next to you, explaining what each one does as he goes. You feel the words swimming before you, still-sleepy brain struggling to make sense of all the unfamiliar products. But you want to try, and you want to make Vil proud.
You summon every ounce of willpower in your body to focus, to understand and remember everything Vil is saying to you. You think you do pretty well, and when he moves on to putting the makeup on you, explaining the steps and all of his tips and tricks, you think you do a decent job remembering all of those too. Hopefully you’ll be able to make sense of them when you try doing this yourself tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll be able to make your makeup look as good as when Vil’s done it. He hasn’t let you look at it yet, but you’re sure it looks wonderful.
You’re still sitting on your bed, fiddling with the string of your pajama pants. It’s almost seven o’clock now, the process taking longer than usual because Vil kept stopping to explain things to you. You’re very grateful for his help.
He’s standing at your desk with his back to you, organizing the makeup before he gives you the mirror to look at yourself. You stare at him, studying the way his hair falls and the measured way he breathes and the easy movements of his hands. You don’t know why he - Vil Schoenheit, housewarden, model, actor - even bothered to take an hour out of his day to help you, of all people, with your makeup. Maybe it just bothered him that much to see someone not striving for beauty like he does. It’s definitely not because he cares how you, specifically, look. But for the moment, you allow yourself to entertain the thought.
Even though he was just doing your makeup, his touch was light on your face. His eyes didn’t leave you the whole time. You know it means nothing. You know. You know.
Vil turns back to you, perfect like always. You feel foolish for imagining you could ever stand next to him. He’s holding your mirror, the makeup he brought neatly stacked behind him.
“Are you ready?” he asks. You nod, bracing yourself for the sight. You’ve never been overly fond of seeing yourself in the mirror. But he hands it to you and you almost gasp.
It’s still you, of course. Your same eyebrows and cheeks and smile. Just… cleaner. Sleeker. More beautiful.
“See?” Vil says, beaming in front of you. “Makeup enhances your natural beauty. Gives it a little boost - not that it needs much - and brings it out a little. You’ve always been beautiful, but now you’re just… more so.”
You feel your heart freeze. Did- did Vil just call you beautiful? You?
“I’m not that pretty,” you hurry to say. “You’re beautiful.”
He pauses, head tilted, silent for a moment.
“You know,” Vil says, “I hear that every day. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard it from you.”
You stare at yourself in the mirror, trying not to look up at him.
“It’s true,” you hear yourself say. “I just thought… you hear it every day, so why would I bother making you hear it from me too?”
You feel the bed sag when Vil sits next to you. He takes the mirror from your hands and turns your face towards him. He touched every corner of it when he was doing your makeup, but none of that felt quite like this. His fingers are firm on your chin, his eyes intense on yours.
“It’s never a bother to hear,” he tells you. “It’s good to say it when you think it. I think you’re beautiful, and denying it won’t change that.”
“You’re beautiful,” you say, again, because you mean it. Because it’s true. Because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to say to him.
You watch his lips curve into a smile. He’s looking at you, and he’s sitting on your bed, and your legs are almost touching, and you feel more alive than you ever have before. You feel like you can do anything.
“I’ve had a really big crush on you since our first year,” you say, before you can stop yourself, before your brain catches up to what your stupid mouth and heart have been plotting together.
You tear your gaze away from Vil, heart thudding and cheeks burning, but not before you see his eyebrows raise in surprise.
“Oh,” he says. You can’t read his tone of voice. You’re not sure you want to.
Vil doesn’t get up. You thought he would. He stays sitting next to you on your bed, long enough that you finally sneak a glance over at him. He’s still looking at you.
“Is it just because I’m an actor?” he says.
“No,” you say, quickly, forgetting to be embarrassed in your rush to defend yourself. “Of course not. It’s just- I don’t know. I love the way you pay so much attention to people, and to details, and the way you work so hard at- at everything, and the confidence you carry yourself with, and - and you’re so hot and that’s really just a bonus on top of everything else and like -”
You’re surprised you’re not crying. You kind of feel like crying. Vil seems to notice, and he laughs, cupping your face with one of his hands.
“Don’t ruin your makeup,” he tells you. He’s smiling. You thought he’d be mad, or offended, or just tired of people confessing their undying love for him. But he’s smiling, and he has one hand on your cheek, and he’s using the other to brush your hair out of your face. He is sitting very close. You think you might die.
“It’s not a good idea for me to get into a relationship right now,” Vil tells you.
“Yeah,” you say. “I figured. That’s part of why I never… or, well, not that I thought, or think, that I have a chance anyway, but like - anyway. I figured.”
He laughs. His face is very close.
“Promise me that you’ll do your makeup tomorrow,” he says, “and all of next month, at least. If you don’t think you’ve gotten better at it after that, I can bring you some other makeup and we can try this again, but promise me you’ll try for that long. If you promise, I’ll give you a reward.”
“I promise,” you say, “but I don’t need a reward. I was going to do my makeup anyway.”
“Oh, but it’s a reward for me too,” he says. He slides his one hand down so both are on your cheeks, and you think you see his gaze drop to your lips, but you don’t have any time or space to think about that before he’s pulling you close.
Vil Schoenheit kisses you in your room at 7:06 AM, in your pajamas and your messy hair, the lipstick you both wear smudging together. His hands are gentle against your face. You hold the back of his neck like it’s your only lifeline.
His lips are warm, and soft, and you feel like you’re losing yourself against them. One of his hands slips to your back. You press closer to him, relishing the chance to touch him after all this time. He makes some sort of sound in the back of his throat, pulling you even closer.
You think his face is warm, or maybe it’s yours. Maybe it’s both. For the longest time, you don’t think the moment will ever end. When it does, it’s all too soon.
Vil pulls back, face flushed, lipstick messy in a way you’ve never seen on him before.
“I’m still not looking for a relationship,” he tells you. You almost laugh, still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours, but he stops you before you can speak.
“But if I were, you’d always have a chance. A leg up, even. I noticed you in first year, too. You really think I pay this much attention to all of my lab partners’ makeup?”
You laugh this time, for real. It just bubbles up out of you. “Well, I did wonder.”
His lips curl up, mirroring the way you feel. He’s still holding you close against him.
“I should get going before Rook comes looking for me,” he says.
You nod, but neither of you make any move to get up. You’d be content to stay like this forever, honestly. Once he leaves this room, everything will probably go back to the way it was. You have no new label to put on your relationship, nothing you can tell your friends without breaking his trust. The only thing that will have changed is the makeup you’ll be wearing every day. But who knows? He said he’d bring you different makeup in a month, after all. Maybe he’ll even give you another reward.
💭: ace "accidentally" gets doused in a love potion after a slight mishap during alchemy class. he suddenly becomes unbearably clingy and dramatic with you, much to the dismay of the first-years. there's just one teeny tiny problem: it's completely fake.
ace finds that it might be possible to fool you by spraying an uncanny amount of cheap perfume.
pairing. ace trappola x gn! reader ft. first-year gang
wc. 3.6k
warnings. crackfic, reader is prefect, ooc ace cs i know his ass is too prideful for this (probably), ace humiliating himself for 3.6k words, oblivious(not really) reader, second-hand embarrassment
a/n. so ace-pilled holy shit i was lowkirkenuinely cringing writing some of these lines bye i love my little fumbler 🥹🥹✌
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam—if there is a will, there is a way.
An irrefutably classic phrase, one that is strewn across the vast sea of modern literature, and in moments that blend with the mundane life. It, at its core, resonates with the very sentiment of human perseverance and unyielding nature—defiant, arrogant, yet all the more unapologetically humane.
It is an honest attestation to humanity—a primordial inheritance that has bled through one’s flesh and bones since breath was first given, and dust became living.
The phrase has always been bracketed for conquerors and geniuses, for those who have stood on the precipice between will and subjugation—life and death. It is a consensus that has outlived empires, etched onto monuments, and passed down through blood and scripture—scrawled in the handwriting of sleepless architects who drew lines until the graphite snapped, and in the frantic, ink-smudged margins of poets who starved just to feed a single verse.
It is also laced in the mutters of delusion posed by lovesick fools.
“You’re utterly pathetic, do you know that?”
Ace waves his hand absentmindedly in return, not even bothering to look up from where he has draped himself across your lap in a boneless and shameless manner. He leans his weight entirely to your side with a heavy sigh, polluting the air with the violent smell of cheap roses and synthetic hibiscus.
The air around him is thick with a scent so aggressively floral that it feels like being hit in the face with a funeral wreath. It’s a cloying, syrupy catastrophe of concentrated sugar that seems to radiate off his blazer, making nearby students cough and retreat—even Grim had abandoned you ten minutes ago after loudly declaring that his “snout hairs are being burnt through.”
“I’m touched by your concern, really,” Ace sighs dreamily, his voice dropping into a honey-thick register that makes Epel look like he’s about to physically gag. “But love is just a cruel and incurable affliction.”
“What in tarnation are ya saying?” Epel replies, horrified. “You… you reek of perfume from Sam’s shop!”
“It’s a love potion,” Ace corrects solemnly. “Get your facts right.”
“I told you, it was a complete accident in the lab.” Ace murmurs, his fingers tracing idle, lingering patterns against the lines of your palm. He’s been “unable” to let go of your hand for the last forty minutes, yapping about how the warmth of yours grounds the hazy territory of his tangled mind. “One minute, I’m just stirring the cauldron, the next—bam—pink smoke right at my face, and suddenly, the Prefect is the only person in the world that matters—it’s a tragedy, isn’t it?”
He tilts his head, resting it on your shoulder and peering up at you through his lashes with a gaze he clearly thinks is “smoldering” but is actually just intensely focused on making sure you aren’t suspicious.
Epel stares at him aghast, disbelief painting his countenance as he tries to blink away the ridiculous sight in front of him. Deuce stands slightly farther away from the scene, partly to stay away from inhaling that biohazard and mostly to save himself from embarrassment, looking deeply conflicted about whether he should intervene or let his friend continue to descend into social suicide.
“You really should pay attention to the steps Professor Crewel gave us.” You sigh, trying to steady him as he practically melts against your form.
You do not notice the collective agony radiating from everyone else.
Ace suppresses a smirk against your shoulder. He’s a fencer—he knows all about finding an opening, no matter how cornered or tight it might be. If he can’t find a way to your heart through normal, non-embarrassing means, he’ll simply build a bridge out of lies and stinky perfume.
He slackens his shoulders, his gaze turning glassy with manufactured devotion, and with devastating overcommitment, he squeezes your hand like a maiden grasping her final earthly tether.
“Prefect,” Ace calls out softly like he’s moments away from collapsing into an early grave (you swear you can see Deuce grind his teeth in cringe). “I don’t think I can survive this cruel affliction alone.”
Deuce makes a strangled noise. “Ace, it’s not possible to die from a love potion!”
“Oh, Juice… You truly don’t know anything.” He sighs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply—unfortunately, it turns out to be a massive tactical error on his part, because he ends up breathing in a mouthful of his own gas chamber of a perfume. He chokes for a split second, but he recovers with the terrifying tenacity of a man who could take on Lebron in a match.
“See? Love is the most twisted curse of all.”
Epel physically recoils. “Oh, no way you said that.”
“Ace,” Deuce hisses under his breath, face impressively red from secondhand embarrassment. “You said you were only gonna act a little weird!”
“Well, excuse me for being committed to the role.” Ace shoots back before instantly melting back into his lovestruck persona the moment your attention diverts back to him. His expression softens with almost terrifying speed, eyes half-lidded as he gazes up at you, as if you personally hung the stars, the moon, the sky, and everything under heaven. “Sorry, Prefect… loud noise makes my symptoms worse.”
You, completely oblivious to the fact that a standard love potion doesn’t require a daily application of five ounces of lavender eau-de-toilette, merely pat his head with a sympathetic sigh. “Does your head hurt? Maybe we should go to the infirmary…”
“No! No infirmary!” Ace stumbles out quickly in a panic, his voice cracking slightly before he clears his throat and drops it back into that low, dramatic purr. “The school nurse doesn’t have the cure. Just… let me stay like this for five… or fifty… more minutes.”
He is, without a doubt, a top-three fumbler in the history of Night Raven College. He has alienated his friends, ruined his favorite blazer, humilaitingly seen by a handful of his upperclassmen, and smells like three different air purifiers in the dead of summer—but as he feels you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him from sliding off your lap, Ace decides that not even Sun Tzu can outsmart him in a strategic battle.
Ace is a genius—holy shit, he’s for sure one hell of a tactical genius bastard.
He presses closer, a smug and completely hidden victorious grin stretching across his face against your shoulder.
Epel mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “yeah, bet the nearest mental institute might help ya instead,” but he doesn’t dwell on it.
Unfortunately (or fortunately?), Ace’s “condition” unsurprisingly somehow follows you everywhere.
EXHIBIT #01: THE HEARTSLABYUL UNBIRTHDAY PARTY.
You can feel stares drilling straight into your soul, but you try your best to feign ignorance, opting to enjoy a slice of tart in lieu. Beside you, your sticky parasite doesn’t seem to get the memo, as he effectively continues to paralyze you by using your shoulder as a personal pillow, his arm looped tightly through yours.
“Prefect… the tea is too bitter,” Ace whines, his voice dropping into that theatrical cadence that nearly makes Trey drop his spoon. “The only sweetness I can tolerate right now is your presence. Feed me a forkful of that strawberry tart? My hands are just… so weak from the potion’s tolls.”
“If your hands are weak, Trappola, I can detach them from your wrists, if you’d like.” Riddle seethes from the head of the table, his teacup trembling with a dangerous clicking sound. His face is a shade of red that rivals his cape—half from the sheer, unadulterated public indecency of the display, and half because the sugary foulness permeating through the air is ruining the aroma of his Earl Grey.
“A—Ace, please, Housewarden Riddle is looking right at us,” Deuce whispers frantically from across the table, looking paler than paper. “You said you were just going to ask the Prefect to walk you back to the dorm!”
“I can’t help it,” Ace sighs dramatically, tightening his grip on your arm and leaning his head further on your shoulder. “If I’m not near the Prefect, I might seriously stop breathing—it’s the potion doing it, I’m telling you! You wouldn’t want to explain a corpse at an Unbirthday Party, would you, Housewarden?”
His fellow dormmates look the other way with varying degrees of expressions that encapsulate their desperate prayers of coming out of the party alive.
“I am going to count to three,” Riddle says, his voice lowering into a terrifyingly calm note as he pulls his magic pen. “And if you are still doused in that unsavory cologne and violating personal space boundaries, I will see to it that it will be Off With Your Head for a straight month!”
EXHIBIT #02: THE LIBRARY.
“Look at this section, Prefect,” Ace mutters, his warm breath hitting your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that he definitely notices, given his shit-eating grin that he doesn’t bother to conceal. “See, the ancient kings fought wars for land and territory, but I’d give up the whole world just for a single glance from you, y’know?”
From across the table, a poor Scarabia student groans into his hands. Genuinely, get this corny shit out of my face.
Seated in the quietest, cramped corner of the library, as dust motes dance beneath the dim lights, the supposed “study session” for your upcoming history quiz is completely overturned the moment Ace decides to sit so close to you that he is practically in your skin. His chin rests heavily on your shoulder, his chest pressed against your back, while his hands “helpfully” guide your fingers across the page.
So much for trying to pass Professor Trein’s class.
Suddenly, a shadow falls over the table in the form of Sebek Zigvolt, who, with his arms crossed, stares at the two of you with a snarl of pure, righteous indignation.
“Trappola!” Sebek starts to bellow, before remembering where he is and dropping to a harsh and aggressive whisper that still rattles the desk. “What is the meaning of this indecent display?! Get off the Prefect at once! Your vile stench insults the very air Lord Malleus breathes!”
“Ugh, talk about bad timing. It’s called romance, Sebek. Not everyone is emotionally repressed.” Ace doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, dropping his chin back onto your shoulder and tightening his hold on your waist with an arrogant, proprietary tug that cements his position. “Prefect, my head hurts… tell that loud pipsqueak to go away.”
“Loud pipsqueak?! Why, you impudent, malingering fraud—”
Before Sebek can burst a blood vessel, you hurriedly lift your hand to Ace’s forehead, your fingers brushing against the fringe of his bangs as you press the back of your palm gently against his skin.
Your brows knit together in concern, your thumb unconsciously smoothing a strand of his hair away from his forehead. “You do feel a little warm… maybe the potion is affecting you more than we thought.”
Ace nearly fucking ascends.
The moment your cool fingers brush against his forehead, his entire brain short-circuits. The smug grin completely vanishes, replaced by a bright red flush that creeps up all the way up to the tips of his ears. Your thumb idly smooths down his hair, and Ace suddenly realizes that playing dead might actually become a reality if his heart keeps hammering against his ribs this thunderously.
Sebek merely gapes at you in utter, speechless cosmic horror, his chest locked mid-breath as he watches your hand actively comfort the enemy. His mouth opens once, then closes again with an audible click as he struggles to process the cataclysmic level of gullibility unfolding before him in real time.
“Prefect,” he says slowly, voice immensely strained with the effort of remaining civil, “surely you cannot be believing this buffoonery.”
Ace gasps as though Sebek has just insulted his entire lineage. “Why are you all against our love? Is it a crime to yearn? Is it a cardinal sin to be entirely consumed by the most profound and inescapable emotion known to mankind?”
Ace clutches weakly at your sleeves with the grace of a tragic heroine abandoned at sea, his eyelids fluttering with a level of vehement agony that is likened to a mourning opera singer. He blind-grabs your free hand from the desk, clutching your knuckles against his chest right over his furiously beating heart.
“Don’t look at him, Prefect,” Ace pleads, his voice trembling and delicate like spun sugar—so terribly artificially sweet just like the overwhelming wave of vanilla floating directly up Sebek’s nostrils. “If the world stands against us, then I’ll stand against the world.”
Sebek’s face violently transitions from an offended purple to a vein-popping, volcanic shade of crimson.
EXHIBIT #03: THE CAFETERIA
“Ace, I genuinely wish from the bottom of my heart that you will fall into a ditch and never be seen again.” Epel deadpans, his fork hovering precariously close to his plate of baked potatoes.
His knuckles are white from his grip, and his face is gnarled into an expression of raw visceral disgust that is worse than when he’s talking about lifestyle lessons with Vil.
Across from him, Jack quietly nods in agreement while trying—and failing—to eat his lunch through the suffocating floral fog emanating from Ace’s blazer.
“I can taste the perfume.” He says, disgruntledly, his ears flattening so far back that it’s practically pinned to his skull.
“That sounds like a personal problem,” Ace replies without shame.
The humid midday heat of the cafeteria has essentially aerosolized Ace’s three layers of perfume, turning your circular table into a high-concentration chamber that can suffocate a small woodland ecosystem. Nearby students have already cleared out, dragging their trays three tables away just to escape the fumes, leaving the first-year gang isolated in the red zone.
Poor Jack, being a beastman with heightened senses to top it all off—it’s a miracle he hasn’t passed out yet.
“Prefect,” Ace pokes your arm, his tray sitting almost untouched in front of him because, apparently, lovesickness has also robbed him of the ability to feed himself, “can you cut my omelette and feed me? I think I’m going to faint…”
Epel massages his temple. “Please stop talking.”
You glance between Ace’s sprawling state on your shoulder and his untouched lunch. “Is it really that bad?”
“See? Prefect gets me,” he sighs. “Unlike you heartless people who mock a man suffering through the torment of forbidden love.”
“There’s nothing forbidden about it!” Deuce whisper-yells, looking seconds away from ripping his hair out of second-hand humiliation. “You literally made this whole thing up!”
Ace gasps loudly enough to earn several irritated looks from nearby upperclassmen.
“Deuce…” he breathes out quietly, eyes full of faux betrayal, “how could you expose my medical history in public?”
“That is not what medical history means!”
“Wow, look at him trynna act smart.” Ace snickers near your ear, completely unfazed by the fact that Deuce looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. He slides a fraction lower, his shoulders slumping deliberately as he lets his weight anchor completely against your side.
“You were the one who asked me to help you!” Deuce hisses, lurching toward his direction with a desperate tone of someone attempting damage control, his voice pitched low enough as he jabs an accusatory finger toward him. “You said—and I quote—bro, it’ll just be a little joke for like ten minutes. Ten minutes, Ace!”
“Well, plans evolve, Deucy Juice.” Ace merely shoo’s him, letting his head drop onto your shoulder again, his hair tickling your neck as he shifts closer, shamelessly stealing warmth and attention as if it’s his God-given right.
Jack looks greatly disturbed as the seconds tick by. “You’re making us lose our appetite.”
“That sounds like jealousy.” Ace replies instantly before reaching his fingers over to play with the hem of your blazer. “It’s okay, I get it. I’d be jealous too if I saw us together.”
Epel slams his forehead directly against the table.
EXHIBIT #04: THE BOTANICAL GARDEN.
The golden sun bleeds a heavy, bruised orange through the glass panes of the Botanical Garden, but the natural fragrance of rare flora has been completely eradicated.
By evening, the entire first-year population has become unwilling participants in Ace’s one-man theatre production.
You sit on a stone bench near the temperate zone, trying to review your notes for the day, but it proves hard in practice when Ace is practically poured over your lap, his legs stretching across the bench, while his face is buried into your side.
He lets out a drawn-out sigh loud enough to constitute a public disturbance.
“What now?” Grim groans, his paws clamped so tightly over his snout that his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “You’ve been leaking that fake flower juice all day! My ears are ringing from your whining!”
“Nothing,” Ace replies, his voice a lazy murmur that rumbles right against your ribs. He shifts slightly, dragging his cheek along the fabric of your uniform. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” You ask, not looking up from your notes.
He cranes his head up to gaze at your eyes, looking at you through the messy, unstructured fringe of his bangs, lips curling into a devious smirk. “...You.”
“Oh, how touching.” Grim snarls right back at him.
“Ugh, just throw that damn ginger back to his dorm, henchhuman!” Grim’s muffled voice wails from behind you, now burying his face into a nearby bush brimming with exotic plants to save his nostrils.
Before said ginger can concoct a two-page excuse for why the scent of Heartslabyul’s air—especially if away from you—would further detonate his predicament and cause the fall of NRC, Ortho's buoyant voice beats him to it.
“Incredible!” Ortho chirps cheerfully, his mechanical voice cutting through the (frankly repugnant) air. “My atmospheric sensors indicate that the floral fixative concentration in this exact three-meter radius has nearly reached the level that is technically classified as a skin irritant! Ace, are you attempting to pheromone-bond with the Prefect?”
What the fuck.
“...Pheremone… bond?” You repeat, weakly.
“...Ortho,” Ace says carefully, in the tone of someone who’s trying to lace an emergency exit out of a conversation. “Look, buddy, my guy.”
“I’m just curious!” Ortho continues, his eyes blinking with the bright, faultless energy of someone who has absolutely no idea of the scale of the bomb he just dropped. “Pheremone-bonding is a documented cross-species courtship behaviour—I read about it in volume three of Advanced Magical Biology—where one party attempts to establish a scent association with a preferred individual through sustained proximity and repeated olfactory exposure!”
Ace nearly faints for real this time. The absolute, paramount confidence that he’s been riding all day as he flaunts it right at every possible chance shatters into a million jagged pieces. A violent, red blush erupts across his face, spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and up to the tips of his ears.
“Ortho, shut up!” Ace panics, his voice cracking spectacularly as he scrambles out of your embrace. He bolts upright, stumbling over his own legs as he storms right up to the floating guy.
He stands on his tiptoes, his face completely ablaze as he frantically swats at the glowing holographic charts floating in the air. “Why do you even have graphs for this?! Delete them! In fact, burn them!”
“But these are important visual aids!” Ortho protests, dodging Ace’s flailing hands with effortless ease as he floats higher into the air. “See? This chart clearly displays the increase in physical clinginess whenever the Prefect directs positive attention toward you! Would you like me to print a comprehensive report for your Housewarden?”
“What?! No! No one is printing anything!—”
While the two of them are locked in a high-stakes, hyper-panicked screaming match—Ace frantically jumping up and down to try and drag the other out of the air—Grim slowly peeks his head from the shrubbery. His blue flame ears twitch as his eyes dart between Ortho’s glowing charts, Ace’s crimson face, and your completely serene countenance.
Grim blinks—he looks at Ace, then looks back at you. A sudden, sharp realization strikes his brain, and he waddles over to your side on the bench, completely ignoring the chaotic noises in the background.
“Wait a minute…” He mumbles, pointing a paw directly at your face. “Henchhuman… you knew from the beginning, didn’t you?!”
You look at Ace, currently yelling at the robot three feet away, entirely stripped of his cool-guy facade and looking thoroughly like a thief caught red-handed. You let out a small, amused huff and calmly reorganize your books.
“Mhm.” You hum noncommittally.
Grim’s jaw drops, his tail snapping wildly in the air. “You knew?! And you just let him drag you around all day?! You let him ruin my nose hairs with that cheap flower juice for nothing?! Why didn’t you just punt him out the window?!”
“Well,” you reply smoothly, leaning back against the stone bench as you watch Ace fervently try to jump-kick Ortho’s thrusters, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “He just looks so cute trying so hard to find an excuse to cuddle with me. I figured the least I could do was let him have his win.”
Grim drags his hand down his face so hard it might as well leave a physical mark on his face, groaning loudly into his paws at the realization that he is trapped in a greenhouse with a shameless yearner and an absolute enabler.
How does he act in a relationship with you? Leona x gn! Reader/Yuu headcanons (wc: 720)
Hii! This is my first twisted wonderland post :)). Mostly fluff, I'm very new to the game so forgive any ooc in this, enjoyy! ❤︎❤︎
it’s not difficult for him to realize what he feels for you. it’s certainly nothing like what he feels for anyone else, no one else feels as warm. your kindness strikes him in a way that makes his heart twinge. it frustrates him to no end. all of a sudden his thoughts drift to you just before he sleeps, and he actually listens to the whispers of the underclassmen when they mention the prefect.
the problem is for him to admit it. to both himself, and to you.
he hides how he feels well behind a stoic face, but he can’t hide the way his heart frustratingly stutters and his ears flick when he hears your laugh, or the way his senses go on high alert when you’re around him.
expect to see him around you much more often than before. he won’t go out of his way to speak to you, but he’ll make sure you see him
his favorite napping spots? all of a sudden those places are wherever you tend to regular
it’s a quiet moment when you two begin to date. he doesn’t post it anywhere, nor does he make grand displays of PDA around others, but his hand on your waist or your back as you two walk through campus is unmistakable.
when you study next to him as he naps, his eyes will be on you. unmoving and intense, his focused gaze will latch onto you.
there’s a subject you’re stuck on? he’ll provide the answer out of the blue. when you turn to ask him how he knows, he’s fast asleep.
he doesn’t quite get jealous, but expect him to closely observe the way others act around you, and act accordingly. wrapping his tail around you or resting his arm on your shoulder as he stares down the other person with a grin.
that’s a habit he has. no matter what you’re doing, his eyes will follow you, whether to make sure you’re okay or simply to watch you. if anyone were to ask, he’d scoff and shut his eyes to feign sleep, but anyone could see the way his sharp green eyes soften in admiration
leona is a sleepy man. however, I think that when he’s in a relationship, he would try to take naps less often. being around you makes him feel seen. with you, he feels he is taken seriously, that he’s seen for his true strengths and worth. you give him something to look forward to. when he does nap, he wants you by him during it. expect a grumpy leona if he wakes up and doesn’t see you.
if you have insomnia or any fears relating to sleeping, expect him to help with that immediately. his steady breathing and warm presence are enough to help lull you to sleep.
on that note, even though he is a fast and deep sleeper, he will make sure you’re safe throughout the night. if you start tossing and turning, nightmares seeping into your sleep, he’s quick to wake you and provide comfort, draping himself over you as he wraps his arms around you tight. he holds you as if you’re something precious, something irreplaceable, and to him, you are.
when he’s alone with you, he‘s much softer than what anyone else sees of him. if you point it out or tease him about it, he’ll scoff, letting out a sarcastic retort with no real bite. “in your dreams, herbivore.”
as much as he loves you, he can tend to be a bit avoidant at times. he fears losing you, and that fear can make him hesitant when problems in the relationship occur. he doesn’t want to lose you, he doesn’t want to see you become bored of him and take interest in another, but that same fear can make him be distant at times. he acts like he doesn’t care if you’re ignoring him, or even goes ahead himself to ignore you. part of it is a test, to see if you’d really stay with him. his whole life he was always the lesser option, who’s to say you wouldn’t feel the same?
he’s still a bit rough around the edges, he can come across as insensitive through his words, but he makes sure his actions always speak louder. you’re his lover, and he’s determined to keep you by his side.
|| You, the owner of a small tavern in Marley, meet a strange man who stumbles upon your bar. A man whose name you never got, but face you'll never forget.
wc: 2.4k
Hey guyssss :)) it's been a min but WE'RE BAACK ! This one's a little rushed but i hope yall enjoy!! As always requests and dms are open ♡
The repetitive motion of the rag dragging across the counter was enough to lull you to sleep. Glasses had been cleaned so much they twinkled under the low light of the bar. Bottles of various alcohols were safely stowed away in the back, and the register had been cleared out hours ago.
The tavern was, by all means and unusually so, silent.
It was a small tavern, just by the seaside of Marley. It overlooked the beach but was just off the main shore, keeping it homey and secluded. While it was small, it held the warmth of those that frequented it; loud and painstakingly busy, but tonight? You had swept each corner of the place thoroughly, and this was your third time cleaning the high table.
While surprising, especially at this time of night, it wasn’t unexpected. More and more talk of Eldians finding their way into Marley led to growing unrest among the general public. Even the police, your most frequent regulars, were absent.
Ever since you were little, sneaking around your parents as they worked throughout the night, daring to take a few sips of the wine they reserved for themselves, to now, taking over their work and making it your own living, it was the first time you could even remember it being like this. And while it did tend to get far too rowdy in here, you couldn’t say the stillness was any better.
The ring of the door made you jump out of your half-asleep state and whip around to see who came in-- a man you had never seen before, likely your age but with eyes that looked beyond their years and at something far away that none could decipher.
“What can I get for you?” The question came out quietly, lacking the upbeat customer service voice and attitude you’d usually give, but you still put in the effort to give a smile. You moved to grab a glass and place it in front of him, and for a moment, he just stared down at the glass. His mind seemed to be lost in thought just as yours had moments earlier. However, his felt different-- darker, in some way. Your smile faltered as you looked down under the counter, where you kept a rifle. You had never used it before, but with everything going on, you could never be too safe.
“Whatever you recommend.” His voice came out deeper than you expected, a slight gruffness to it as he rested his arms on the counter.
You squinted at him and gave him a glance over. If he *was* your age, then- “Are you even old enough to be drinkin’ alcohol?”
“Are you gonna tell?” It was the first time his eyes looked into yours, a muted green resting behind long brown lashes. His gaze was sharp, and for a moment you felt trapped in his stare. After a beat of awkward silence you shrugged, turning around to make the drink.
“As long as you pay, it’s not my business.”
He didn’t say anything after that, but you could feel his stare on your back. You finished making his drink and slid it in front of him, watching as he pauses before taking the first sip, hesitantly bringing the glass to his lips. He raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks back to you again.
“Made it sweeter than usual. Didn’t know if you could handle the bitterness.” He let out a humorless chuckle at that but continued to drink it with newfound vigor. While he drank, you let your gaze settle on him. Out of habit, your eyes flicked to his arm. Seeing no band, you continued to take in his appearance.
He was pretty. Long brown hair and sharp features, a suit that was a little crooked, but added to his charm nonetheless. Now you’re sure you’ve not seen him before. You would certainly remember that face if you had. As soon as he put his glass down, you cocked your head to the side, curiosity clear in your voice.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
He tensed at the question but kept his eyes on the table.
“Does it matter?”
“No, I just was curious.” you admit. It went silent between you two but this time, you let the silence linger in the air.
“It’s quiet in here for a weekend.” Seeing his attempt at conversation, you perked up, nodding as you inspected your nails.
“Not too many people been coming out cause of Eldians finding their way into Marley. Been seeing less and less folk out here lately.”
“Does it bother you?”
“What? The lack of sales? Well, du-”
“The Eldians.”
You blinked in surprise, bringing your gaze from your hand up to where he was, still, looking at the table. It was an interesting question to ask. Most people coming in here would simply scoff at the mention of those people alone. It only piqued more of your interest, but you sat in thought for a moment, mulling it over as you refilled his drink
“Pointless hate won’t get us anywhere. Eldian blood or not, we’re all just people.” You murmured as you slid his drink back over, but he didn’t take it.
His eyes were on you now, staring at you with an unreadable expression. His hand was hovering just next to his drink, looking as if he had almost been frozen in time.
“But I’m still surprised. Eldians prowling or not, those officers are more devoted to the drinks than duty. Weird not seeing them ‘round here.” You shrug and tap on his glass, and that seems to bring him back down to earth.
He didn’t respond to that for a minute, nursing his drink while he looked around.
“I came to visit from another country recently.”
You nodded, expecting him to continue, but he changed the subject entirely.
“What’s your name?” His voice was quiet, almost shaky, and you looked at him with confusion. He’s cute, but a little weird.
“y/n l/n.”
“y/n…” It went quiet again as he contemplated.
“You know, if you want to see more of Marley, I can tell you about some places around here that might interest you.” You offered him hopefully, already thinking of a list of famous spots that were beloved by tourists you were sure he’d love. You could show him the town square! Or oh! you could show him the fie-
“You don’t have to. I’m gonna be leaving soon.”
“Oh.. so you really don’t like Marley, huh?” You scratched the back of your neck and chuckled awkwardly.
“It’s not that. I just can’t stay here.” He took another sip of his drink. “I had a mission coming here, I can’t abandon it.”
“That certainly sounds serious. Care to share?” For a third time already, the tavern went silent.
“…or not, that’s okay too-”
“I was expecting to find something here, but instead I found the opposite. I..” His words came out all at once, tumbling out of his mouth before he stopped himself from going any further. His fists clenched and he dropped his gaze back down. You gave him time to recompose himself, offering him the space he very clearly needed. You swore you saw a tremor shake his body before he calmed himself down, soft, shaky breaths being the only sound coming from him.
You took the glass from him again and rinsed it out to fill it with water instead. As you placed it in front of him, your hand hesitantly found his. At that he stilled, and raised his head to look at you, yet didn’t pull away. His hand, warm and calloused, gripped yours back.
He rose to stand, and your eyes followed him, but not without looking outside first. Rays of sunlight were peeking over the trees, and you swore you could hear a bird or two chirping into the brightening sky.
“Leaving already?” You tease, though you felt disappointment wash over you. As the time passed, the two of you conversed more and more, ranging from every day topics to sharing childhood memories you remembered fondly Laughing and nearly crying with him, it felt like you had known him for ages. Even if it had been hours since he had come into the bar, it felt like mere minutes had passed.
“I can’t stay any longer”
“I know…” You trailed off, feeling silly for even thinking of asking him to stay. He had already been here all night, what more could you ask for? His eyes stayed on you for a few moments longer, unmoving yet not saying anything. You also stand up and begin to clear the table, leaving the glasses behind the bar and grabbing the keys to lock up. He stays as you turn off the lights and lock up the register, and the two of you walk out of the tavern side by side.
“I live right above the bar, so I’ll lock down here and be on my way.” Keys jingled as you fiddle with them, stalling to stay with him the tiniest bit longer. You linger in the silence and contemplate saying anything more, but he beats you to it.
“I would’ve wanted to get to know you better.”
It was quiet, but you caught it. You blinked owlishly as a smile spread across your face. You don’t know why it sounded so solemn, but if he planned to leave and possibly never return to Marley, it made sense. You knew you alone couldn’t convince him to stay and experience it for longer than he wanted to.
“I would’ve liked that too.” You said just as softly. This time, it was his turn to smile. A small, but genuine smile rests on his face. It was a beautiful sight. He tilted his head and some strands of hair fell over his face, and you felt the urge to brush them back. Blinking quickly, your face heats up as you finish locking the door and say farewell.
As you reach the corner, you turn to look back. He’s still there, looking at you, small smile still gracing his features.
Your footsteps are feather light as you run upstairs to your room that overlooks the street below. The smile never left your face as you put your belongings down and remove your coat.
Suddenly, a thought came to your head.
“I never asked for his name!” In a panic you run over and throw open your windows, leaning out so far you nearly fall out, but your urgency wins against your caution.
“Wait! what is your-”
No one was in sight.
Even though it had only been a few moments since you last saw him, not even the faint sound of footsteps could be heard. It was as if he had never been there to begin with. You stay leaning over your window for a while longer, peering through the gaps between buildings to see if you could see him. But the more time passed, the less optimistic you became.
Maybe you’d catch him around town, before he left?
You shook your head. Knowing Marley’s size, doing that would be impossible. With a sigh, you back into your room and shut your windows, plopping down into your bed and closing your eyes.
That night, a man with green eyes set on the horizon seeped into your dreams.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
CRASH!!
“Agh!” You cried out, though the sound quickly deafened under the thunderous footsteps. The shaking of the ground was so severe it drowned out the screams, both yours and the people around you. Sharp pain hit your leg in waves and you felt your head grow dizzy as your body hit the ground. You forced your eyes to focus and saw remnants of your tavern, trapping your leg under the rubble. With all the strength you could muster you tried pushing it off, to no avail.
For a moment, your hearing goes silent, and all you can do is watch the travesty around you. The sky was a dark shade of red, as if it was reflecting off the blood pooling throughout the street. the once pristine roads, now decimated by unsurmountable wreckage and bodies. Titans, so many to the likes you’ve never seen before, were getting every closer towards where you were-- their destructive presence enough to make buildings and homes crash down, such as yours.
Any sense of order completely crumbles. officer and civilians alike scrambled through the streets in a frenzy, screaming in terror. It made you want to scream, too, but as you opened your mouth, nothing came out.
You let out a shaky breath as your body curled in on itself, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to steady your breathing, tried to count down from 50, tried focusing on different body parts, anything to distract yourself from the devastation of all that was around you.
A shriek somehow piercing through the air made you open your eyes. Through the dust you could see a couple hold each other as they try to outrun the inevitable destruction. their hands were intertwined so tightly interwoven it seemed they shared a limb. A tremor ran through the ground as another building collapsed, and the man pulled his lover away from the danger, shielding their body with his own. They held each other as they stared at what just happened in absolute terror, before continuing running towards some sort of sought after safety.
You don’t know why, but something about that stuck with you. You felt a twist in your chest, even amidst the destruction around you, and, consciously or subconsciously, your mind drifted back to that man you had met just a few months prior.
Is he okay right now? Did he ever make it back to his home?
You don’t know why your thoughts drifted to him at a time like this, but his face wouldn’t leave your mind, the warmth of his smile wouldn’t unravel itself from your skin. You remembered his soft laugh and the way his hand felt in your own, the quiet secrets the two of you shared and the drink you made him that night.
As your body weakened, everything fell quiet again. There was no more screaming anymore, and your body felt impossibly light, even the pain from before had vanished.
You let your body relax, the softest sigh exiting your mouth as you shut your eyes. The tremors began to lessen, and the air felt as warm as a summer day.
As your mind began to fade, one last thought crossed your mind.
reiner braun as the cool, mysterious guy you always see at the function ˚.✦
He's everywhere. Now that you remember his face, you see him in every goddamn corner. And it's driving you insane. The first time you spotted him was at a frat party, you were chatting with Jean and Sasha, sharing some beers and laughing when you stared at him.
You and him maintained eye contact enough to make it weird. Dusted blonde hair, tired eyes and a faint stubble. Tall and strong as well, even with a baggy shirt and baggy pants, you knew he was jacked under that. You're eyes followed him across the room, seeing people waving at him before he settled in one of the sofas with Armin and a few other people.
"Who's that with Annie's man?" you pointed at him with your chin before taking another sip of your beer.
"Reiner?" Jean arched his brows, looking at him from his shoulder. Sasha did the same.
The blond could feel all of your eyes on him, making him self conscious all of a sudden, fixing his shirt and running a hand through his hair. You couldn't help thinking how cute that was
"Isn't he on the football team?" Sasha added.
You shrugged. In all your years at this university, you’d never once cared about the football team or any sports team, honestly. Jocks were background noise. Loud, sweaty background noise.
But now?
Now he was foreground. Loudly.
Two days later you’re in the campus coffee shop, half-dead from a late-night study session, waiting for your iced latte when you catch sight of him through the window. He’s outside on the quad, laughing with a couple teammates, helmet tucked under one arm, practice jersey clinging in all the right places. He turns his head just as you do, eyes meet again. This time he doesn’t look away immediately. Neither do you. It stretches until the barista calls your name and snaps you out of it.
You grab your drink and practically flee.
A week after that, you’re in the library during dead week, buried in a corner carrel with your headphones on, trying to cram for econ. You stretch, glance up and there he is. Two tables away. Back to you, hunched over a textbook, one massive hand scrubbing over his face like he’s fighting sleep. He’s wearing glasses. Thin wire ones. Of course he wears reading glasses. Of fucking course.
He shifts, turns slightly, and catches you staring. Again. His mouth quirks like he’s amused. Or maybe he’s just tired. You duck your head so fast your neck protests.
It keeps happening.
The dining hall line, he’s two people ahead, loading his tray like he’s fueling a tank. Your eyes snag on the broad line of his shoulders, the way his hoodie stretches across them. He glances back, like he can feel it, and your stomach flips when his gaze slides right over you. Holds. Then he gives a small nod. You nod back like an idiot and suddenly can’t remember what you came here to eat.
In the gym, he’s there on the weight floor, earbuds in, bench-pressing what looks like your body weight plus another person. Sweat darkens his shirt in a line down his chest. You pretend to be very interested in the treadmill settings while your pulse hammers in your throat. When you sneak another look, he’s sitting up, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. A flash of toned stomach. He catches your eye in the mirror. Doesn’t smile. Just… looks. Long enough that heat crawls up your neck.
You leave early.
The worst is the random hallway encounters. You’re rushing to class, phone in hand. He’s coming the other way, backpack slung over one shoulder, talking to another friend. Your shoulders barely brush. But enough that static shoots down your arm.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“No worries,” he says. His eyes flick down to yours, soft but searching. “You good?”
You nod too quickly and keep walking, heart thudding so loud you’re sure he can hear it.
It’s stupid. It’s just eye contact. Lingering looks. Accidental brushes. But every single time it happens, something tightens in your chest.
Because the next time you see him at another party, this one smaller, someone’s off-campus house. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, talking to Bertholdt and Annie. You walk in for a refill and freeze when his head turns.
This time he doesn’t just look.
He pushes off the counter. Starts walking toward you.
And suddenly the room feels too small, the music too loud, and every single glance you’ve traded over the past few weeks crashes into this one moment like a linebacker blindsiding a quarterback.
Your breath catches.
He stops a couple feet away. Close enough you can smell clean sweat and whatever body wash jocks use that shouldn’t be this distracting.
“Hey,” he says quietly, ike he’s been waiting to say it.
You swallow. “Hey.”
A beat. Two.
He rubs the back of his neck, the same nervous gesture from that first party. “I’m Reiner.”
“I know,” you blurt. Then wince.
His mouth twitches into something almost shy. “Yeah… figured you might.” He glances down, then back up. Those tired hazel eyes lock on yours again, steady this time. “You got a name, or should I just keep calling you ‘the one who keeps staring’ in my head?”
Heat explodes across your face.
He laughs and it does something dangerous to your stomach.
“I’m kidding,” he adds quickly. “Mostly.”
You exhale a shaky laugh despite yourself. You tell him your name.
He repeats it like he’s tasting it. Likes the flavor. “Wanna get some air? Kitchen’s getting loud.”
You should say no. You barely know him. You’ve spent weeks avoiding actually talking.
But your feet are already moving.
“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s go.”
He leads the way out the back door, holding it open for you like it’s nothing. The night air hits cool against your flushed skin. He doesn’t stop until you’re both leaning against the porch railing, far enough from the thump of bass that you can actually hear each other breathe.
He’s quiet for a second. Then:
“I’ve been seeing you everywhere too, you know.”
You glance sideways. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looks out at the dark yard, voice dropping. “Thought maybe I was losing it. Kept hoping you’d say something first.”
You laugh despite of yourself. "I was hoping you'd say something first."
He just stares at you for a moment before both of you are bursting out laughing, even throwing your heads back for how dumb the situation is.
"Oh my god!" he says, still between laughter. He runs both of his hands through his face and hair, you can peek at his abs for that.
"This is probably one of the most awkward situations I've ever been," you comment, letting the laugh die.
Now you're back at staring at each other, but it's different. Your eyes are glowing, his cheeks are faintly red from laughing and you are... maybe too comfortably close to each other. He smiles quietly at you, you smile back, tilting your head to the left.
"Ask me something," he says, breaking the silence.
"Hm?" you arch your brows.
"Anything! I want you to know me," he adds, pressing his lips together.
You huff a laugh, squinting your eyes at him. What are you even gonna ask him? Everything sounds awkward and weird.
"Do you actually like football?" you tested, pouting your lips slightly because you didn't know how he was gonna react.
Reiner blinks at you once. Twice.
His whole expression freezes, like you just asked him if the sky is green or if he secretly collects porcelain dolls. The easy, warm smile he’d been wearing slips right off his face, replaced by something stunned and unguarded. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
You watch the exact second realization hits him that this wasn’t the question he’d braced for.
He’d clearly been expecting the usual script: You got a girlfriend? Seeing someone? Anyone special keeping that big frame warm at night? The kind of thing people always lob at guys like him.
Not this.
His throat works. He looks away fast, out into the dark yard again, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t leave a mark. The porch light catches the flush creeping up his ears.
“Uh…” His voice comes out nervous in a way you’ve never heard from him. “I…”
He lets out a short, shaky laugh that has zero humor in it.
“Shit. You really went for the throat, huh?”
You stay quiet. Just watching. Giving him room.
He exhales hard through his nose, shoulders dropping like he’s deflating. The hand on his neck slides forward until he’s scrubbing over his face again, fingers dragging slow.
“Honestly?” he finally says, almost like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Nah. Not really.”
The admission hangs there between you, raw and surprising even to him, judging by the way his brows pinch.
“I mean… I’m good at it,” he continues. “Been playing since I was six. Everyone’s always telling me how lucky I am, how it’s my ticket, how I was made for this.” He shrugs one shoulder, but it looks heavy. “And maybe I was. Once.”
He glances at you sidelong, like he’s checking if you’re judging him yet.
You aren’t. You just nod once.
Reiner swallows again. “I don’t know. Somewhere along the line it stopped feeling like mine. It’s just… pressure. It’s not fun anymore, it’s a job. A really fucking violent, high-stakes job that I’m terrified of failing at.” He lets out another humorless huff. “And the worst part? I’m still really good at pretending I love it. Act like I live for Friday nights under the lights. But when I’m alone? After the adrenaline crashes? I just feel… tired. All the time.”
He finally looks at you fully again. Hazel eyes searching yours, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.
“I’ve never said that out loud before,” he admits, almost whispering. “Not to anyone. Not even Bertholdt. Definitely not my dad.”
The silence stretches.
You tilt your head, voice gentle. “Then why keep doing it?”
He laughs again—small, cracked. “Because I don’t know what else I’d be. Football’s been my whole identity since I was a kid. If I walk away… who the hell am I?”
You don’t have an answer for that. Not yet.
Instead you just shift closer on the railing until your shoulder brushes his. He doesn’t pull away.
After a long beat he turns his head toward you again. His eyes are still wide, still a little stunned, but the knot in his chest just loosened the tiniest bit.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmurs, half-smiling despite himself.
You raise a brow. “Me?”
“Yeah.” He nods once. “Most people ask if I’m single. You asked who I actually am.”
Your stomach does a warm flip. He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for years. Then, quieter:
“Ask me something else.”
You smile.
“Okay,” you say. “What do you like? When it’s just you.”
His eyes soften. The tension in his shoulders eases another fraction.
hii! i was wondering if u could write a mikasa x reader, modern college au but honestly want the rest to be a surprise!!
take care!!
Hiii! Ty for requesting !! This is honestly quite short however I do plan on writing more things for mikasa soon :)) hope you enjoy!
wc: 300
“Does my eyeliner look okay?” Mikasa asked, swiping one last application of the dark red lipstick over her lips as she got ready in your shared dorm.
A playlist of hers played through your phone speaker, an upbeat rock song you didn’t know the name of. You were watching as she got ready to go out-- or well, you couldn’t look away-- her high ponytail and bangs framed her face perfectly, her pierced earrings dangling as she finished the last touches of her makeup. Your gaze traveled across her outfit, one that you helped her choose, one she looked absolutely gorgeous in. You kept staring at her, entranced, until-
“Hello? Earth to y/n?” Her soft voice broke through the drums of the music while she waved her hand in front of your face, having been waiting for your answer the whole time. You blinked rapidly, face heating up as you nodded.
“Yeah- yeah, it looks perfect. You look perfect.” You said the last part just a bit quieter, but she still heard it and smiled widely, to which you returned your own smile.
“Great. I’ll be going then…” Her voice drifted off, holding your gaze for a moment too long. “…Maybe today I’ll have the courage to ask Eren out.” Her eyes lit up and she looked away with a blush, missing the fall of your own smile and slump in your posture.
“Make sure to let me know if you do.” You began to absentmindedly pick at your nails in faux casualness, yet a sliver of bitterness made its way through in your voice. Mikasa nodded enthusiastically, and with a small wave, left you alone with only the sound of the music she so loved.
Maybe some day, you’d be brave enough to tell her your feelings.
With a sigh, you shut off the music and fell back onto your bed, covering your face with your hands and letting out a groan.
-
I hope you all enjoyed!! I plan to be posting more soon, if you have any requests please feel free to let me know!! <33
I would like to make you a request with Eren Jaeger x reader.
Something like domestic au/fluff (modern au because aot world is depressing asf 😭). Although I'll be happy with whatever you write :)
Thank you for atleast read my request, I have a feeling you'll make art (if you decide to write it, sorry if it's short, i don't usually write requests, so idk how to make one 😭)
Take care!!
| In every life, Eren would choose freedom. And he was determined to achieve that freedom, with you. (1.3k)
HIIIIII tysm for the request!! ahah it's a bit more emotional(?) than fluffy but I really hope you enjoy it! :))
The air was crisp. Lights hung up throughout the streets of the town to celebrate the winter season, glimmers of warm orange and bluish greens cast a soft glow along the pavement. You clung to your coat a little tighter and began walking faster as a particularly harsh gust of wind blew past.
This was the first snow of the season, and it reflected in the people roaming the streets en masse. Laughter rang throughout the area in such a way that made it unclear as to where it was actually coming from, while families enjoyed themselves; some ran through the streets in glee while others simply watched, taking it all in. Clusters of people mingled inside bars to rave about whatever sport was playing on the wobbly tv, fogged behind cracked glass and light snow. It felt like the entire town was out in this street alone, all enjoying the weather together.
However, none of that mattered to you in this moment, or maybe it never did; the only thing on your mind was your lover, only a few blocks away.
The small town that once raised you now felt far too cramped to breathe in, memories of the past and expectations of the future coiling around you so tight it felt like you could hardly move. Life had been stressing the two of you out recently. In between finally graduating college and trying to figure out post grad life together, your heart felt too heavy to enjoy the merriment of the townsfolk.
You pull out your phone and click onto your messages, staring down at your last conversation with Eren. He had sent a text, short and noncommittal, to meet up at a nearby park. While this wasn’t unusual for the man, you wished his invitation didn’t include a lengthy walk at night in the cold. You continued staring down at your phone, switching from messages to the photos app. The first photo you see is a photo of your friend group, smushed onto a small couch as Armin holds the phone high enough to capture you all. Near the back of the photo, you and Eren sat, his hand on your hip, holding you snug against him while you leaned back into him, beaming into the camera. The memory of everyone, all together and happy, pulled at your heart.
Finally reaching the park, you noticed that it was almost completely empty. This side of town was older, quieter in a way that was only amplified with the weather. The only sound was your shoes softly crunching with each step, even that feeling like a disturbance to the blanket of peace that laid over the park.
Your gait slowed to a stop as your eyes landed on a clump of strelitzias wrapped around the side of a tree. Their bright orange petals were a stark contrast against the white of the snow.
You continued on your path to find Eren, only to trip and fall over what seemed to be a large tree root. Only, it was in fact not a tree-- just your boyfriend staring up at you with a soft grin.
“Watch where you’re going,” he called out, looking at you as if you were the one laying in the middle of a dark field. You looked at him dumbfounded but only shook your head and sighed in exasperation.
“Maybe you should find a better place to lay down.” You muttered with no real bite, a soft smile forming on your face as his hand reaches over to brush snow off your knees. You caught his hand in yours as you settled next to him.
For a while, neither of you said anything. The snow continued its journey down and every so often you’d wipe your eyes to clear it off. Your hand remained in his surprisingly warm hands, even with him being out here for who knows how long. He always ran warm, and his steady breathing brought you a comfort like no other. However, even with this comfort, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully relax.
In a way, you felt trapped here. That feeling is one of the many things you and Eren bonded over almost instantly. You’d often look upon your friends and family around you, and even with the happiness you felt, living among them and growing up together, a part of you wanted-- no, needed-- to leave. To see what the world can offer you that you can’t find here. For so long, your life was contained to this small locale, and you so often dreamed of wandering throughout the earth and making the world your home.
Your mind shifted over to Eren. Did he feel the same? The dark circles under his eyes, the tiredness, his growing distance from those around him, could it all really be fixed by breaking away from everything you’ve ever known, into a place free from the expectation and desires of others? You wanted to ask him about how he felt, if he felt that this freedom was worth leaving everyone you two knew behind. But a part of you, louder than any other, wanted to savor this moment of reprieve from the world in his arms.
Your eyes gazed up above. Through the haze of snow and clouds, into the sky. You raised one of your hands. It reached out above, trying to grasp onto a future that felt like fresh air and not heavy chains. Peeking between the clouds, the moon shone down upon us, its own hands reaching out to cradle us. Your hand shook, either from how long you held it aloft or how hard you were reaching up. With a soft, almost imperceivable sigh, you relax your hand to let it drop back down.
Only, another caught it, and pushed it even higher.
You look over at Eren to see him already watching you. His green eyes bore into your own with the passion that had made you fall in love with him. His hand caressed your own while he gave it quiet support. He leaned into you and placed a kiss on your temple.
His kisses didn’t end there. He started to pepper your face in kisses. Each kiss soft and slow. You melted into his affections, closing your eyes and resting your hands on his shoulders until he pulled back, still close enough that each puff of breath you exhaled was shared between you both.
“Do you want it too?” He whispered against your lips, foreheads pressed together.
“Want what?”
“To leave it all behind. Let’s run, together.”
Your eyes shot open, scanning his face for any mirth or hints of him joking. When you found none, your breath hitched as you looked away and nodded with haste. His hand found its way to your chin, directing your gaze back onto him. Your mouth open and closed as you contemplated, in contrast to the determined look in his eyes.
“Stop worrying about technicalities. We can figure all of it out as we go.” He murmured, cupping your face. It was only then you realized how cold you had gotten, warmed up by his touch.
For the first time today, you felt a wave of calm pass over you. The coils that sunk into your skin loosened, and you could finally feel each and every sensation clearly-- His body against yours, the chill of the air, the snow freckling your face. Your smile made its way back on to your face, and you sealed your decision with a kiss to his lips.
“We won’t be going anywhere if we don’t get some sleep, that’s for sure.” You giggled, taking his hand as you move to stand up.
There may still be problems and countless things to work out, but the hand holding yours reminded you that you weren’t alone, no matter where you went.
He would stay by your side.
—
i hope you all enjoyed !! feel free to request if you’d like to see anything in particular, have a great day 💞💞
