#viitlumi

[armoredone]

morning after prompts ( accepting ) @viitlumi: i guess this makes us more than friends

The moment Reiner awoke, the flash of memories from the night before tinged his cheeks pink, and he shuffles in the bed, legs stretching out beneath the sheets whilst he only grimaced slightly at the soreness from their nightly activities, a dull ache that felt both uncomfortable and good at the same time . . . it was rather confusing, though none more so than his thoughts on the matter. He was afraid to roll over, to face Vito, worried that he made a mess of things by allowing them both to fall into bed like this, their friendship was good, their companionship, the things they shared, why did he ever feel the need to make things more complicated? Sure, the kissing had been nice, welcome, the sweet nothings Vito whispered in his ear, the praising, it all felt like Reiner was walking on a cloud, he allowed himself to come undone, he gripped the older man tightly and gave himself over for the night. Legs perched on shoulders, callused hands grasping at a back, amber gaze darkened with desire.

It had felt incredible.

Yet was it worth it to possibly lose his friend? Vito was the one person he had that didn't know him as a youth, that had no prior thoughts, was never effected by his treachery or lies. It felt nice to be looked at as a man rather than a broken soldier, a murderer.

He feels tears prickle his vision, only jumping slightly once Vito's soft tone reached him, and he quickly wipes at his cheeks, still not rolling over, the sheets still bunched up around his nude form and luckily veiling his morning shame. Bodies and minds were not linked up, having doubts and worries while singlehandedly having lustful memories plague and awaken parts of his body was ridiculous and yet here he was.

" . . . Would you like that? I don't want you to feel like you have to, I'm not a delicate flower you have to court just because you fucked me. " The tone is gentle despite the crass word, and he grimaces again, breathing in harshly through his nose before grunting and turning in bed, his features softening at the sight of a very nude Vito who looked just as handsome now as he did when he was on top of him the night prior.

" I liked doing that with you, I like doing a lot of things with you, but . . . please be patient with me. I'm scared I'm going to mess things up. I don't want to mess you up. "

[somairle-a]

"i know you can't believe it yet, but i promise you can trust me. whenever you're ready to rely on me, i'll be here for you. i swear it." (Comfort Angst being completely sleep drunken because I missed them hiiiiii)

“i’ll keep you safe” prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

levi allows the words to linger in the air for a long moment while he stews over the words vito just said. silver eyes staring off into the distance and if someone didn't know any better, they could assume he hadn't been listening at all. but he had been, just as he's always entuned to anything the vito says or does. he doesn't know when it began, but the captain found himself focusing heavily on his companion's actions, a distraction that was both perplexing and exciting. hange might have described it as a crush when levi offhandedly mentioned it once to them. they were gleeful at the tidbit of information and levi swore to keep his mouth shut about any future feelings towards their northern companions. still, the silence has lingered long enough and he turns his head slightly to the taller.

"i wouldn't be traveling with you if i didn't trust you," levi replies, his tone is even, but his gaze is steady, wanting to silently convey his genuine feelings, but finding himself unable to elaborate any further. he lets out a soft tsk as he glances away again, resting his head in his hand, "don't be so melodramatic," the dark haired male grumbles, "i already rely on you."

[kerothi]

sent from prompts / @viitlumi

It was something Connie said. Something really dumb—so dumb that even Connie had to stop mid-sentence with this bewildered, wide-eyed, almost owl-like look on his face and boggle back at Jean. Made a total mess of whatever he was meant to say, like his tongue was suddenly just a bit too big for his mouth or something, and it's that which prompted them both to ask in perfect unison, "What the hell was that?"

It takes something as stupid as that, as unfunny and out of pocket as one them tripping over their words and the both of them to say the same thing, at the same time, for them to finally allow themselves some levity and take the time to laugh. Really laugh. Bowed forward with tears in their eyes, clapping each other on the back while they tried and failed to catch their breaths. It wasn't funny, but that's why it was.

It's been a long time since the two of them have been able to laugh like that.

Hilda says: "I've never seen you that way..."

After Jean breaks away from Connie and goes to pass her on his way back inside the ship. He only stops after he does a double-take and realizes she is, in fact, talking to him. He reverses a couple of steps back out onto the deck and says, "What way's that?" Even if he could guess. He pockets his hands and waits for a crew mate to pass before joining beside her and the view out to sea. "Not completely miserable?" He offers, with a shoulder popped up in a shrug.

"What can I say? Full of surprises, me."

[mercurialstorm]

for @viitlumi

The scent of pine and woodsmoke hanging heavily in the morning frost and the crunch of snow under her boots felt almost meditative. Lyanna pulled her heavy fur coat tighter around herself, the chill seeping through her clothing, nipping at her skin, but she didn't mind too much.

Over the past few moons she'd grown fond of the rugged landscapes of the North. A change she welcomed with grace after the organ of unease and melancholy that her House was. Isvann seemed a polar opposite to the Marleyan metropolitan view, where her home used to sit amongst walls and turrets–even though she never thought of it this way or called it her's. Before war devastated everything, she used to feel sorry for it's walls and surfaces.

Marleyan architecture conveyed cramped asymmetry, structures slouching one on top of another. Her family's was one of the nicer ones, spaced off from the rest, a masonry that seemed to have took form seemingly overnight, two to three generations ago. A contagion, cultivated under clean lines and ornate frames, infected everything and everyone within its confines, spreading and festering under it's gabled roofs and plaster moldings, just to slowly gnaw on the bones of the House to brittleness. Lyanna did leave before she was consumed. Or thus she wanted to choose to believe. Then the war came and everything was extinguished and now she carries it around, a burden with mutable form. A House that eats and pleads and kills.

The northern drawl of a familiar accent cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to her feet. Vito. The warm smile across her face pushed aside her reverie as she approached the tall burly man.

"Up and about early I see, can't let your sisters think you're slacking off?"

[lausticzt-a]

@viitlumi continued.

REQUESTS AREN'T MADE LIGHTLY. Laura doesn't ask for help, rarely needs it / refuses the belittlement of needing anyone, for she can make herself an expert instead, surpassing any flaw that might come her way. Years had grown on her, not so much rambunctious as she'd once been. Defeat in knowing she can't rely on her own skills here ... or lack of. She's impatient, can't afford to wait; riding horseback was fine enough. The animals in question, however, were the problem. She manages well enough, the military horses in the inner walls complied without much resistance. But there's rarely a use for them. It's the scouts horses that were her target. Far more reliable, capable, trained as any war horse should. She remembers her THE FIRST, long ago, who seemed out for her especially; refused to bow to her. It had taken awhile, but even then, off-field she'd find no leeway with him. That had been her one and only horse in her time with the survey corp.

Animals weren't her strong suit, nor was she much of an animal person to begin with. Laura didn't need to be. Her issue right now was the new horses.

He's not from here and it makes it easier to approach. From what she can already gather, he's the easy-going sort; but, time will tell. Never completely trusting, she has her eyes set sharply on those across the sea. But it's different. All of them are. It intrigues her in a way she can't describe; eye opening and oddly freeing. She's been suffocating in these walls.

“ ... ”

Laura should be relieved for his help. Happy he had accepted. But at his words, lips shut together, pressing into a hard line. Expression wavers, and there's a light twitch in her brow ... maybe, she clicks her tongue quietly and lets her biting gaze glare at nothing in particular. Admitting it feels like vile in her throat, bitterness when she finally gets the words out; demeaning to hear them out loud. To have someone on full witness to her shame.

“ They don't like me. ” It's almost too quiet at first, her words coming out under a muttered breath. Her face twists with a semblance of disgust. With a moment to recover, she straightens herself up, regaining her domineering manner with a frown and a tilt of her head. “ I'm not exactly an animal person. And they don't listen to me. I don't want to waste time on it. So you don't need to be perfect, good enough works fine. ”

She can't quite admit how bad it is / to Vito, or herself. It's not a matter of riding. It's getting close enough to them without issue. Sometimes she gets lucky, they do what they need to do and she can leave it at that. But lately, it had gotten ridiculous. She blames the new horses above all else. Ones who had yet to get used to her presence; and she had gotten impatient.

[mercurialstorm]

My  muse  pulls  your  muse  under  their  umbrella  during  a  sudden  downpour. (Hello hi throwing Vito at you for Lyanna hehe)

The sky had been an unbroken stretch of dull gray for most of the afternoon, the air thick with the promise of rain. Lyanna had noted it absently, as she did most things, tucking the information away but making no move to prepare. She had always prided herself on her ability to endure discomfort—wet clothes and cold skin were minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things.

And yet, when the first fat droplets splattered against the cobbled streets, followed by a sudden, relentless downpour, even she felt a twinge of regret. The rain came down in sheets, drumming against the ground with a force that blurred her vision. Within seconds, her dress was clinging to her frame, damp strands of hair sticking to her face.

She had just resigned herself to the miserable walk back when a shadow loomed beside her.

A warm hand caught her wrist—not forceful, but firm enough to draw her to a stop. Before she could react, a canopy of dark fabric unfurled above her, muting the sound of the rain against the stone. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before her gaze flicked upward.

Vito.

He was grinning in that effortless, disarming way of his, as if they weren’t standing chest-to-chest beneath a shared umbrella, their proximity so close she could catch the faint, lingering scent of woodsmoke and leather clinging to his coat.

Lyanna exhaled through her nose, her usual sharp retort failing her as she became acutely aware of their closeness. The space beneath the umbrella was limited, forcing her to stand near enough that she could feel the body heat radiating from him.

She should say something. Break whatever this was before it settled too deeply in her bones. But words felt distant, unimportant.

It was nothing. Just a moment. Just shelter.

At least, that was what she told herself. But her fingers curled slightly, and she wondered—just for a fleeting second—what it would be like to reach for his hand instead.

“Thank you, but, this isn’t necessary,” Lyanna muttered, tilting her chin up just slightly. Her voice was firm, but the usual sharpness wasn’t there—it was quieter, like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Nothing about the situation changed. He didn’t step away. The umbrella stayed where it was.

She exhaled sharply, hating the way the silence pressed in on her. “What, do you think I’ll melt?” she added, aiming for something wry, something dismissive.

It didn’t land the way she wanted. The words came out a little too quick, a little too defensive. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Pulse thrummed beneath her skin, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

She kept her eyes on the rain, refusing to look at him, because she had the sinking suspicion that if she did, something would shift. She should just move. Step out from under the umbrella, leave the moment behind.

And yet, she stayed rooted in place.

[armoredone]

prompts ( always accepting ) @viitlumi: ❛  here, you look like you need this more than me right now.  ❜

The city was filled with comfortable busy noise, just the right amount of action and hustle that Reiner could sit and breathe and get lost in his thoughts without getting overly stimulated. He felt like times to unwind and absorb the world around him kept him from getting too lost in his head, and it was one of many tactics he used in this new life of his. Armin had suggested it of all people, and Reiner learned rather quickly that it was best to just listen to what his friend had to say.

Inhaling through his nose, Reiner leans back in his seat, peeking one eye open the moment the familiar voice rang in his ears, the corners of his lips just upticking into a faint smile. Despite his first instinct to reject the drink, he accepts the small glass with the mysterious liquid inside, this time allowing his lips to fully form into a smile. " Vito. I didn't know you were in town. " Glancing down at the drink, he brings the cup to his nose and gives it a little whiff, and only upon not grimacing does he shrug his shoulders.

" I'm not much of a drinker, but since you apparently can read my long face and you're so kind to offer it to me . . . " He trails off, sipping the drink and sighing once the alcohol goes down rather smoothly with a decent taste mixed in. He's relieved, pink shading his cheeks and his smile is true as he gestures for Vito to join him with a nod of his head.

" I haven't seen you in a while. Am I wrong in assuming you missed my sunshine demeanor? " He asks dryly, laying his palm on the older man's shoulder and offering a light squeeze. " I can imagine you could find far fun crowds to spend your free time with, friend. "

[licentiapennas]

Hunger// pick whoever you want ❤️

 hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

As she finally sank into the worn, wooden chair, the exhaustion of a long day's labor as a janitor in the Survey Corps' headquarters began to catch up with her. The dim glow of the setting sun cast a warm orange light through the small window, illuminating the simple, rustic furnishings of the room. Just as she was about to let her eyelids droop, a gentle clinking sound broke the silence, and a steaming bowl of soup was placed before her by Hilda's courteous hands. The savory aroma wafting from the bowl stirred her senses, and her weary blue eyes, with their characteristic lack of warmth, sharpened as they rose to meet Hilda's face. A hint of curiosity sparked within them as she tilted her head, her long blonde hair rustling softly against her back.

The tranquility of the moment was short-lived, however, as her stomach growled audibly, protesting the neglect of its basic needs. The sound was loud enough to be embarrassing, and Heather's cheeks flushed slightly with a mixture of surprise and chagrin. "… did I skip breakfast again?" she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and self-deprecation. It was indeed a dreadful habit, one that she had never managed to break, despite her best intentions. The demands of her work and her own emotional turmoil often left her neglecting her physical well-being, and she would frequently forget to eat, or skip meals altogether.

Hilda's thoughtful gesture, however, had not gone unnoticed. Heather's gaze refocused on the bowl of soup, and a small, grateful smile played on her lips. "Thank you, I greatly appreciate it," she said, her voice sincere, as she picked up the spoon and began to eat, savoring the warm, comforting liquid. The simple act of eating became a moment of respite, a brief reprieve from the weight of her responsibilities and the haunting memories that lingered in her mind.