#cece; morgen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peace-for-levi · 2 years

Text

Morgen; Chapter 3: Wird die Sonne wieder scheinen

Synopsis: reader’s mind is plagued with thoughts of their childhood and after weeks of routine established between reader and levi, he is surprised when they don’t get out of bed. Levi, not knowing any better, assumes it is menstrual cramps. He also tries gelato for the first time!

Content warning: soooorta exposition-heavy chapter, but it should tie in. child abuse (implied physical, emotional and verbal), it’s mentioned levi takes pain medication occasionally, abandonment issues, intense mourning, a bit of a breakdown, terminal illness mentions, levi having horny thoughts that he shouldn’t have

taglist: @wortverlust (jo has done some AMAZING artwork for this), @levmada (a massive thank-you for editing and beta-reading some of this) @levi-my-beloved (an even BIGGER thank you for beta-reading the rest of it iN ONE SITTING) @starstruckkittensweets @notgoodforlife @galactict3a @sckerman @ackermandick @licuadora-nasir @maries-gallery

prev chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

(Insolent child… Insolent child…)

You could never remember how your father looked. Not that you wanted to.

He was an angry man with angry eyes, with brows always knit together. Crows feet were stabbed at the corner of his eyes from faking jovial smiles to the neighbours as if he wasn’t like a ticking bomb waiting to explode just moments before.

(Good for nothing…)

You were always okay, though.

You lived on a small farmstead surrounded by lilies and tulips and bright daisies. You spent your days in the garden reading or sketching after tending to the garden. The garden was so lively and buzzing with activity, it was as if the goddess Flora herself had blessed this piece of haven herself. Your mom was a florist and apothecary owner while your dad worked on the farm, and your grandmother lived not too far away. She had been getting a bit frail, so she moved closer to your family.

You had your mother and grandmother. So, you were fine. Great, even.

Plus, out in the flowers, nothing bothered you. No thoughts could reach you while you admired their splendour and beauty.

(Dirty animal…)

Animals liked you too, especially the sheep. You could rest your head on top of them as you laid in the overgrown grass, hiding from everything and everyone. You just had to crouch down a bit here and there when your dad came.

It was one night at around the age of seven or eight when you sauntered back inside. Dusk had been setting, fireflies were dancing among the barley grass. That usually meant it was dinner time.

When you closed the door behind you, there was a suitcase by the front room. You looked on ahead and noticed your mom in the small, cramped kitchen. She was stirring the pot and normally when you came in, you’d greet her with a relieved smile.

You had come back, thank the Walls.

For it wasn’t the first time - nor the last - you announced you were running away. And she knew your convictions: if push came to shove, you’d do it. You had done it.

(Everything’s your fault.)

Granted, you only ran a block away to your grandmother’s house, and that was always your mom’s first idea on where you’d disappear to.

That night, though, she looked terribly frightened.

You sat down at the table as a bowl of chunky vegetable stew was placed in front of you. You babbled away about the flowers that bloomed, about the sunshine that shone brightly today in the garden that made for good reading light—and she saw that same sun shining in yours.

Her lower lip trembled when she noted the few gashes and bruises that dotted your arm, like blotched paint on a canvas. Purple, red and blue. She knew where they had come from, but she didn’t want to admit it herself.

You rambled on and on. “--And then, the moon followed me all the way home!”

She looks up from her stew. “I told the moon to do that,” she says to you, softly, “and he listened to me because he likes you. So, if you’re ever lost, talk to the moon and see if he’s there.”

You flashed a toothy grin (you had lost one of your front teeth recently) and she remained silent after that. Her hands were shaking.

“Mom, are you cold?” you had asked.

She stood up and looked at you, and you could see tears welling in her eyes. She shuffled away, hands slipping under the sleeves of her pillowy cardigan as she closed the door to the kitchen. She panicked. She was unable to deal with this any longer.

She had cracked.

You finished your dinner and walked out to the hall.

The suitcase was gone.

You blinked owlishly, pattering into the living room where the angry man stirred the fire. The coal rocks sparked embers as they fell and collided against each other and the whole room felt way too hot.

Suffocating, stifling.

You couldn’t breathe.

“She’s gone, you know.” The angry man said.

“...What?”

“She’s gone. She’d still be here if you weren’t such a leech.” He said.

Now, it was even harder to breathe. Any breath you tried to let out got lodged in your throat.

You brought your hand to your chest and coughed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

No, no, no!

You were fine if she was there. Maybe she went to your grandmother’s house as well? But, would she go to your father’s mother’s house? Perhaps not. Where was she going? Why did she need a suitcase? How much had she packed?

“You’re nothing more than a fucking brat, you get that through your head,” he snarled. He whirled around angrily, but you had already ran out of the room, up the stairs, and locked the door to your room.

That night, you stayed up to see if she would come back from your grandmother’s, or from her walk.

She didn’t.

You sat by that window for hours on end, looking for any signs of movement. From the wind blowing through the fuchsia bushes, or the sound of footsteps against the dirt path. Or, or the sound of the neighbours talking with full baskets in hand, having just come back from the nearby fishing town for food.

(Your fault. It’s all your fault.)

(She couldn’t stay because of you, couldn’t put up with you.)

(You’ll never see her again.)

Maybe a week had passed, or two - or could it have been a month? You had stopped counting - before you saw her again. Suitcase was back and it had been wheeled up the dirt path, leaving a trail behind her. Evidence that she had left you. Abandoned you.

When would she leave again?

How long was she here to stay this time?

(Would it be my fault if she left?)

It was a baseless argument, maybe even an insult from your dad, but to your young brain, it made perfect sense. He was the parent, you were the child; there didn’t need to be any logic or sense behind his words. You just had to listen to him because he was right and you were wrong.

You couldn’t identify how or what you were feeling—but it hurt. There was a pain in your chest and a throb in your head when you saw her at the bottom of the staircase, smiling at you as if nothing had happened. Her arms were opened wide, waiting to embrace you.

But you didn’t run down the stairs like you normally would. She noted this and dropped her arms, but she said to meet her in the garden.

That flowery heaven where strangely all the bad things of this life vanished, where you felt so at ease.

Daisies were your favourite. There was something so simplistic about them, not too fanciful like other flowers. Similar to how you were simplistic in your needs and wishes. You just needed your mom, your flowers, a book, and somewhere away from the angry man who caused so much chaos and destruction. He was the stormy cloud that’d wash away a spring’s gift of blossoms, awash down the field and utterly destroyed for the next season, for the ground would be sopping wet all year.

Your mother stood before you in the middle of the field, bending down to shoo the stray chicken that had wandered in away. Her hair was flowing free, and there was no hunch in her back the way there normally was. She looked so free, so relaxed and content.

What was happening?

She heard you approaching and walked over to you slowly, testing the waters. Nevertheless, she pulled you into her arms but you stopped at nothing to break free.

You didn’t want to be hugged right now. You’re immediately fighting the hug, thrashing about in her arms and punching. This wasn’t fair. She couldn’t just hug you now.

“Why?! Why would you leave me?!” you screeched. Your voice cracked, tears flowing unabashedly down your face.

But she hugged you tight, and you felt so secure. A sense of peace had returned to you that you had been missing for god knows how long. She held you tighter and tighter until you stopped resisting.

You didn’t hug her back, though. Your arms just fell to your sides. It was a few moments of silence before you piped up again. “Are… Are you leaving again soon?”

“Yes, darling, I am,” she expressed, but there was something in her tone you didn’t appreciate. Happiness? Relief? Your face scrunched up with a sour expression, until she said, “But you’ll be coming with me this time.”

You stepped back. “Huh?”

Your whole life up until now, you had held the understanding that you were some sort of loathed pest. You were keeping your father tied to your family when he probably never wanted a wife and kids anyway. You weren’t needed.

Not even wanted.

But… now? Your mother was taking you away from it all? Surely it meant you were wanted, and loved, and the opposite of everything your father had beat into you.

She explained it’d be a house in Shiganshina that you’d move to. Her flower and herbal shop would be just around the corner, and your grandmother would be living with you two as well.

It seemed like everything would be okay.

But every night once you moved… you would check the closets for a packed suitcase religiously. She had packed her bags before and left when it got hard - even if it was to prepare for your new chapter here…

Similarly, you would wake up ahead of everyone to make sure nobody had left in the middle of the night or that there was no suitcase by the door.

After all, what would stop them from leaving? Everybody else seemed to.

How long had it been since you saw them last… ten years, no?

Both you and Levi had to get used to your separate routines fairly quickly. You had no choice in the matter.

Levi had to accept that you would get up later and would spend way too much time in the shower in the morning. He doesn’t know why it takes so long to wash yourself when he is in and out within three minutes.

But you made breakfast, so he didn’t mind (at least not too much.) Levi liked cooking - you gathered this from all the cookbooks on his table - but seldom used the ingredients in the cupboards (he claimed they were for when he was feeling ‘adventurous’ or ‘bored beyond reason.’) When you found out he was more than happy to eat just canned foods, you nearly flipped. When you first found out, you insisted on making breakfast the next day and that became your routine.

He didn’t mind. Eggs fried in the fat of bacon with some fresh fruit from the night before? Major upgrade from peanut butter and pinto beans (yes, he really wasn’t adventurous in the kitchen. Especially after learning that you needed butter AND milk to make decent mashed potatoes.) Levi would always make the tea though. Usually it was just for himself, though. You had to put on your ‘big girl pants’ to make some for yourself. But if he was feeling generous, he’d brew a whole pot.

Breakfast was always prepared as he showered, which meant waiting for you to use the bathroom first. But wow, did you take forever. So as it would happen, he would just be sitting there with damp hair dripping down the back of his shirt. If he stands up to swap out a new book to read, you can sometimes see his back muscles through the shirt and you have caught yourself ogling him every now and then.

You felt no shame in it; he was an attractive man after all. And besides, ogling to the point of burning an egg only happened once or twice!

He’d quickly scold you for wasting his eggs though and start moaning about your apparent idleness in the shower, when he was in the mood to moan.

(“Levi, it’s called a ‘cleanse.’”)

(“Cleanse? Well, yes, dummy, you do clean yourself in the shower. But it doesn’t have to take more than twenty minutes.”)

(“...I have a process.”)

And your process also meant clogging up whatever space on his bathroom shelves you could find. Levi was a simple man, happy with just his aftershave, razor, pair of nail-clippers and various soaps and prescribed salves for his leg. But you came home one day after your first noticeable profit with tons of lotions and creams and moisturisers.

He thinks they’re all pointless. But he doesn’t tell you that.

He also understands there are different beauty standards here; he notices women need to hold themselves to higher standards set by men that sometimes they can’t even maintain. The time spent in the shower during their so-called ‘cleanse’ to make themselves look nice, to wearing makeup nearly every goddamn day, choosing what clothes to go with what shoes–

He gets a headache thinking about it. He just hopes you’re happy with your appearance, hopes you see yourself the way he sees you. He'd hate nothing more than for you to feel insecure, because he truly feels you have no need to be. Not that your body image was up to him, or under his control.

After breakfast comes getting dressed, naturally. Levi doesn’t dress up too fancily for work. He eyes his reflection in the hand mirror that is kept in the bedside drawer, checking for any loose stubble that needs to be shaved away that he might have missed. He may not dress too formal for work - a long-sleeved shirt and slacks that are loose enough to wriggle his bad leg into with ease - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t meticulous in his upkeep and appearance.

When you got dressed, you wore a pair of loose culottes - or any pair of pants that were airy and flowy enough to walk around in, since you were on your feet a lot - and any light blouse. Your hair was styled in such a way that it was never dangling in your face.

Sometimes you visit him in the teashop around lunchtime. There’s minimal talking, but as the days go on the silence becomes a more comfortable one. Levi sometimes asks if he can brew you anything as you read your book, and you’re quite content sitting in the cosy little shop, reading and just enjoying the time of just being - something that you were not used to experiencing.

Regardless of whether you two saw each other during work or not, before you start your days, you would always meet in the kitchen and a curt (and a wave from you) nod is exchanged. From you, a, ‘come on, we can still be best friends like old times!’ nod and wave, and from him, an, ‘I’ll nod because that’s all I can manage without stumbling like a lovestruck fool’ kind of gesture.

And a lovestruck fool he is.

He realises this the morning you don’t get out of bed and make breakfast. When you don’t waste all the hot water either, or how you don’t wave him goodbye in the morning.

He feels almost empty without you that morning as he makes his own eggs and bacon. They’ll wake up in just a bit, they probably overslept, he tells himself.

Besides, he sometimes required an extra pair of hands in the morning - be it from Onyankopon, Gabie or Falco (though naturally as his flatmate, you were the easiest to ask) - and when the clock chimes 7.30AM and you’re still not awake, Levi thinks he’s on his own. He didn’t hear the squeak of the shower door at ten minutes to eight, so he knew for certain he had to get moving.

Levi is used to shuffling up and down the stairs now, even if it takes him a few minutes. You had mentioned in passing about moving two blocks down that had an apartment on the ground floor to rent, but Levi felt a bit too comfortable here. Yes, he was, in his own way, comfortable taking five minutes walking down a flight of stairs (with the help of some pain medication.) Maybe he was just tired of change.

He feels that this morning when he’s a few minutes late to opening because he normally has an extra pair of hands helping him set up. Not to mention this morning, his leg was killing him. He hobbles over to the door as best as he can and unlocks it before going back behind the countertop. Immediately he is faced with a queue of people waiting to be seated. If he had a few more minutes to mentally prepare, he’d be in a better mood. The scowl is written all over his face from the furrow of his thin brows, to his signature pout.

Ackerman’s is quite famous in downtown Marley and some people have come to accept that Levi isn’t fantastic at customer service, but they also know that he has been through a lot. These are the people who see him beyond ‘just’ an Eldian.

He sees a regular customer and her daughter; Claudia and her five-year-old, Alina, hand-in-hand as they call for their usual. Levi tries to wipe the sour look from his face and goes to make the jasmine tea for the mother and black tea with a drop of fresh milk for the girl. However slow his brain or body works, tea does come natural to him. He’s had more practice since the war ended, it’s like a sixth sense for him now more than ever.

He limps over - he does feel it’s important to serve the customers when his leg allows it - with the tray in his hand. Though he’s no longer a soldier and his leg now makes him unbalanced, he walks (or tries to) with purpose. He feels he owes everyone that much; he feels he owes everyone the best version of himself because he always had to be the best, for the sake of everyone else.

He is going to lean down to set the tray onto the table when it happens. White-hot pain shoots up his bad leg and in that instant he’s tossed the tray the other way - he couldn’t afford to drop it haphazardly on the table and burn his customers. That would spell a lawsuit he definitely did not have the money for.

The pain doesn’t stop though; it’s agonising, throbbing and he loses his balance. The tea has now poured into a puddle on the floor of scalding hot liquid, but unfortunately it’s Levi’s hands that break the fall for him. His palms land into the tea, splashing against his pale, blue shirt and he feels the searing liquid burn his hands that are keeping his body upright. Pain overrules everything and all of sudden, everything is too loud and bright. He feels stuck.

He’s unable to get up, his leg hurts that bad.

He hears the mother he was going to serve tea yell at him to get up and she’s scrambling around to pick up the broken shards (that thankfully didn’t stab him on top of getting burned.)

Fuck his leg.

Fuck his limited physical capabilities.

Fuck Eren for causing this.

Fuck the Titans.

Fuck you for not getting up in time and being so selfish, because he feels this all could have been prevented. But of course, the rational side of his brain kicks in still; his leg was probably going to give out today regardless of whether you got up or not, it’s just that timing wasn’t on his side. Was it ever?

“Mister Levi, let me help you!” a familiar voice brings him back. Levi looks up, his arms now trembling over the complex storm of emotions that courses through him. Emotions he can’t currently identify. “Falco, get the wheelchair out of the storeroom.”

In a matter of minutes, he’s hoisted back up onto the chair and wheeled behind the counter while Gabie cleans up everything. And suddenly, it’s like nothing happened at all. Gabie has learned to clean well with her constant visits here.

It takes a few minutes for Levi to work through the feelings of his own inadequacy before he is able to speak again. “It’s Saturday, you guys should be enjoying the weekend together.” He chastises.

Gabie and Falco glance at each other and Falco shrugs a bit, offering to run up and get him a spare shirt or his pain medication, but Levi says he has a spare down here already and that he’s taken a tablet not even an hour ago. Gabie analyses his hands and gasps audibly at the blistering, peeling skin on the heels of his palms. She cries his name and flicks on the tap, frigid cold water gushes out and she is holding his hands.

If Levi didn’t feel like a burden before, he definitely felt like one now.

“Levi, where’s [F/n]? I thought you both worked? We just passed her shop and–”

“She’s in bed.” He grunted, and Gabie is the one who puts two and two together first. “It’s whatever.”

“Mm, don’t think so,” Gabie sang back. It was definitely not whatever. “Is she sick– Falco, don’t just stand there, serve some customers!” she barked. Falco, who had just been standing there watching Gabie tend to Levi’s hands, immediately scrambled to serve customers. Gabie turned back to the older man again, inspecting his hands - the burns were already clearing up. “So, is she sick?”

“Didn’t check.”

Gabie deadpanned. “I feel like I’m talking to a moody teenager here, even though you’re like, I don’t know, four times my age or something?!”

“More like just over twice. You’re fifteen. Late thirties is not that old.” He retorted.

“It’s teetering on the edge of ‘basically ancient’, but my point is: aren’t you old enough to have the freakin’ decency to ask? What if she’s really sick up there?” she asked flippantly, hand extended out. She was scolding him like a child! She can see in his eyes that there is some guilt - everyone knows he doesn’t have it easy. From his leg to his inner demons, to managing a tea shop, perhaps it slipped his mind to actually check in on you. His mind doesn’t work as fast as it used to; whether it was because his mind had simply slowed down or his Ackerman abilities were no longer (as) active, he didn’t know.

Levi wheels back from the sink after ten minutes, reaching for a towel to dry his hands. Gabie had set a two minute egg-timer and flipped it five times. There was no getting away with anything half-assed with her around, even if she was as young as she was. In the meantime, Falco served everyone and came back with the orange tube of painkillers.

“Mister Levi, you can take another. This is one or two as needed every four to six hours.”

“I don’t want to.” He replied and went back to preparing an order that was to be shipped out. He could feel Gabie’s gaze piercing him from behind. He stops and clarifies: “I don’t want to become dependent on them.”

“Levi.” Gabie muttered, warning him not to test her patience.

It was very hard to keep going back and forth with Gabie Braun, Levi learned this very quickly after being more involved in her life after the war. Because sure enough, after the painkillers were taken, he was back on his two feet and knocking on your door. He lets out a ‘tch’ when you don’t answer the door or show signs that you were… well, alive. He presses his ear up against the door just in case you were throwing clothes about or shuffling around to get dressed, but he is met with a deafening silence.

He twists the knob of your door and searches for your figure in the murky darkness of your room. He hobbles over and peers at you through menacing eyes of mercury. Analytical, judgemental and cynical. He truly feels betrayed this morning, even if the fall and burns on his hands were down to fate and not down to you sleeping in.

He peels back the comforter revealing your pathetic form. He thinks he hears you sniffling.

“I knew you were awake. I needed you this morning,” he says in a huff. He retrieves the long pole that you left by the door and pulls open the skylights. He hears you shuffle about, dragging your legs up to your chest, lying in a foetal position. Yes, the man’s heart often bled for you but at this moment, it held no sympathy. “The hell’s up with you?”

You sniffle, your eyes clamping shut. “Sick.”

“What?”

“I’m sick.”

Your tone was purely monotonous and devoid of any pep or enthusiasm. Levi merely quirks a thin brow and comes back. It’s rare he sees you in this state, but he’s seen it before. After Neil died - even if the marriage was… messy, to put it politely - you locked yourself in your room for ages. He may have seen you in this state once already, but does that mean he can be particularly helpful? But what if you were genuinely sick? He has never seen you ill before.

“Are you actually sick?” he asks as he stands up again. When you nod, he leans forward to press the backs of his fingers to your forehead. “No temperature.”

You shrivel up even more. Are you cold, perhaps? He shakes out your blanket and drapes it over you again, tucking your bare feet in. You give another few sniffles and he feels his heart hurting at the sight. “Sleep it off, then, I guess…”

After fetching you a glass of water and leaving it on your bedside locker, he drags the blinds closed again and your room is enshrouded in darkness once more. He shuts the door gently behind him and while it’s a struggle, he returns down to the tea shop. Gabie and Falco are waiting in suspense.

“Well?” comes Gabie.

“Sick, I told you.” Levi replies.

Gabie purses her lips and, with a gasp, “Oh, I get it now!”

“What?” says Levi.

“Has she done this before? She normally locks herself away when–” Gabie pauses to clap when the reason hits her. “She’s on her period!” she whisper-hisses. “Falco, mind the store, Levi and I are heading out!”

And with that, Levi and Gabie were off to do some errands.

Namely: buying sanitary towels.

When Loneliness first jabs her hand right through your chest, you feel tight and constricted. It’s like a knife that twists and twists, and you can’t pull it out. It sinks in further, plunges deep into your soul and spreads like a wildfire. It feels like you have spent the day drowning. You’re suffocating and clawing for breath inside the covers of your bed.

To love is to have emotional vulnerability, and so without it there can only be a lonely existence. But if loneliness hurt this bad, was the act of loving even worth it?

When did the seed of loneliness plant itself so deep within you that it feels wholly unescapable?

You reach your hand out as if there is another to pull you out of your bed and out of your head. Your fist locks however, realising no matter how long it has been, you’ll always end up back here.

It’s silly, you think, moping out not being able to feel whole and full, when those emotions are only meant to be fleeting. As humans, one could say we are conditioned to always strive for happiness and a sense of longing, regardless of how temporary these feelings are. You know this, so why does it hurt so bad that you just can’t have more of it?

Is it because the war is over? But no one is really ‘right in the head’ after that.

(You make a mental note to write to Mikasa, she suffered through this in a way unlike the rest of you. Armin, too, for that matter.)

Is it because your routine is different? No, not really. You love the tranquillity, and the freedom to sleep in just because you can.

Is it because you are used to being lonely around people who are also lonely? After all of the shit you have gone through in your life, it certainly changed you. It changed the way you see people and the way you interact with others. What is that saying… hurt people hurt people? Or perhaps you are more aware of the hurt that festers within others.

Hell, is there even a reason? There might not be. But at least if there was, you could help yourself.

Levi had just interrupted your moping and you could have asked him to help. Although, it has been a while since you asked him for help. The help you asked him for before in the past was usually very hands-on - helping with straps, sitting with each other after an expedition - but feeling sad for no reason?

You roll around in your bed and you feel something hard poke into your backside. You root around and pull out your sketchpad. Your vision bleary, you rub away the sadness and grime and flick through the pages. Drawings of your shop, flowers…

Your mother…

Erwin…

Hange…

You’d think by now you’d be used to riding the waves of grief. You know that you have a strong, strong heart. You see and feel that the pain stands as witness to the loving bond that survives the passing. Long after they’re gone.

Ah, so was this grief?

How long had you been holding this in for?

It takes your brain a moment to flitter back. To hear the bespectacled brunette’s cheery laughter. And you’re sobbing. Grief and Death have walked with you for years. Though those feelings ebb over time, sometimes there is an error or breakdown where it just becomes a little too much. Where your heart is just a little too tired of trying to hold you together like a fine china cup that has been hastily glued back together, to try to face the next hurdle in life.

That’s what you and Levi are: fragments and broken pieces that always had to be glued back together and never given a chance to grieve, feel and rest. You’re gasping in deep strokes; as if your soul needs to bleed an ocean through your eyes. Where grief holds your hand, you’re having trouble finding the flowers it has left behind as memories. That’s all you’re ever left with after all is said and done.

You want to hug your mom and tell her about the flower shop you opened up in her honour. You want Hange to teach you more about human and Titan anatomy. You want more book recommendations from Erwin.

You want, and you want, and you never get it.

It is these tears and hiccups that remind you that you are alive, and it is this sadness that keeps your soul aflame in this furnace of melancholy . It reminds you that you are alive, and you have to sob and gasp and claw at your pillow - screaming, crying out in enraged agony, clawing at whatever resolve you have left - and that you have to go through this ordeal.

You had given yourself a chance to grieve now, now that the Battle of Heaven and Earth had long since concluded. But whereas before there was relief in crying after a loved one died, perhaps the subconscious repression was what kept you ‘there’ and ‘stable.’ Because right now, this does not feel like a big weight is being lifted from your shoulders. It’s gaining and gaining, heavier and heavier, and you’re being dragged down into your memories.

You spot a picture of Levi. It was a quick doodle from the other day.

His eyes are vacant and distant.

Anyone who only knows Levi superficially would think he is an emotionless bastard who’s lost his ability to feel all and any emotion. That the reason he was able to become Humanity’s Strongest was because he had lost himself within that war and as such, was able to bear the suffering of others.

That couldn’t be more untrue.

The latter part is only true, though, because he was emotional. He knows what it is to be human - so incredibly human - but also knows that it is sometimes a luxury.

Levi always had a glimmer in his eyes. He was stoic and abrasive, and you did not want to talk to him in the morning before he had some tea… or indeed in the afternoon before he had some tea… but there was always something there. A sense of drive and purpose.

One might call him a slave to the dead; always having to move forward and fight to give his comrades’ deaths meaning.

But in your sketch - and you remember the way he looked that day too - he looked so painfully hollow. You could count on your right hand the amount of times you have seen him like this. After Isabel and Farlan, after Erwin’s death and Hange’s.

But also…

On your wedding day when he walked you down the aisle to Neil.

“You look beautiful.” He had told you, but his eyes betrayed what came out of his lips. Was he only saying that because it was customary to say that to a bride on her wedding day?

He said this to you as you lifted your veil back and showed him your face that was lightly dusted in make-up. Make-up was a rarity in Wall Rose and it had cost quite a bit of your salary to order some in from Wall Sine. You remember feeling his calloused thumb hold your face as you looked at him with equally vacant eyes.

After all, you were marrying a man you weren’t quite sure if you loved or not.

But he told you to keep going, to keep walking. That your then husband-to-be was waiting for you. Your eyes welled with tears, you remember and you scoff. It’s ironic he told you to go with your husband, despite how visibly against this union he was. Maybe it was acceptance.

You fiddle with the gold band on your finger though. It’s humbling and saddening; you didn’t manage to save him.

Even your husband, whom you didn’t quite love, left you.

Who was next?

Why did there always have to be a next?!

You gasp again and inhale sharply. You could tear the pillow sheets from how hard you’re tugging at them. Your pulse is rapid, hammering. You’re shaking and there is no sign of stopping. Your breaths are pinched, lodged in your throat and small.

I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to be alone, I don’t—

You’re stunned silent by the short man opening the door to your room with a brown paper bag. His brows are knitted together and a frown tugs at his lower lip

“I can hear you sobbing from out in the kitchen. What the hell is up with you?”

[Just before…]

Levi had never been so confused while shopping before. He arrived back in with a brown paper bag, filled with sanitary towels, tampons and snacks.

Gabie kindly wheeled him to the supermarket and took some change from the till. He told Falco to mark down the amount taken.

To clarify: Levi knew what periods were and that women need products to deal with the flow of uterine tissue. However, a lot of these products he hadn’t heard of before. Or at the very least, they weren’t available on Paradis. He knew women in the dorms back at their old base had rag bins, but these new pads - as per what Gabie called them - had adhesive strips to them.

“What are those sticky things at the side?” he had asked Gabie.

“Wings, Levi. Do you think she likes wings?”

“Wings? Like on a bird?”

Needless to say, he was not expecting this sort of culture shock.

It was late enough in the afternoon when he returned with Gabie and he decided he’d had enough of, well, everything, for the day, and told Falco it was okay to close up. He headed up the stairs after sending the teens home.

It had been a long day. He was ready to snooze in front of a book and maybe brew some tea. Even the brown paper bag seemed to be weighing him down; that’s how tired he was.

His shoulders dropped as he let out an exasperated sigh. She was at his door again.

“Levi, good evening.” She smiled.

“Ioana.” He returned. He peered down at her hand that was holding onto the metal railing, like she was holding it there to flaunt off something or holding it there with purpose. He spies the triad of diamonds sitting atop a silver ring. “Congratulations. Seems he finally made the move.”

The brunette smiled warmly at him, but there was a hint of… something underneath it. And he just couldn’t quite pinpoint what that something was. But he didn’t like it. Then again, who was he to cast judgement on anyone in a city he was only barely familiar with? He was the strange one here. His new roommate? Even stranger.

The lady before him was dressed in a long fur coat that grazed her knees. She was the epitome of beauty and elegance, wearing an obscenely wide hat that framed her angular face. He could still see her obsidian eyes peer through the decorative netting. She always dressed in finery and heels that made her three inches taller than her actual height (though without heels, she’d still be taller than Levi anyway.)

Ioana Meyer was the district’s local representative of sorts for the community. If you had a problem with someone or something, the best course of action would be to write to her and she’d then go through her - now - fiancé who was higher up the chain of command. It seemed politics was going to follow Levi everywhere he went. He didn’t mind too much, but something about such a strict chain of command made him think back to his time in the military; it made him think of Erwin.

He grimaces and takes a deep breath before speaking. “What are you doing here?”

Ioana acknowledges the comment about her beautiful ring first. “It only took his wife dying for him to finally propose to me,” she snuffed. Levi cleared his throat, not wanting to bring too much of his attention to the first part of that comment. “Anyway, I’m here to hand you this.”

Levi takes the envelope and reads the cover. “‘Residents of 1A…’? What’s in this, exactly?” he asked. He could see Ioana was handing a bunch of envelopes, all without being pre stamped by the local post office.

“Don’t worry that little head of yours, Levi. You just fill it out and leave it under the doormat. And leave one for that little florist girlie who just moved in!” she beamed, her melodious voice echoing.

“If this is a census or government form, there’s no need. She lives with me.”

“Ohohohoho, I didn’t think you’d be into girls, Levi!”

“And I didn’t think you’d be the type to be wholly faithful to just one man.” He retorted, a snide reference and jab to her ‘habits’ while in relationships. A gold digger like her never really did the whole ‘commitment’ thing.

She smiled stiffly. “Hmm, well I’m off then. Cheerio!” And with that, she made sure to stomp down the stairs, letting her annoyance at the short man known to all who lived on the first floor.

Levi just shook his head and after rooting around for the keys in his pockets and once he has sat down, the paper bag is dumped on the floor. He moves to pinch the bridge of his nose as he lets out a long exhale. He’s even too tired right now to brew some tea. He could just… close his eyes and take a little nap right now and just—

Whimpering.

You’re crying.

Shit.

Another deep breath and he’s up, brown paper bag in his arms. He pauses right outside though. If you’re going through it, should he really disturb you? He’s not even sure what to say or do if you are on your period. Gabie mentioned tea and sweet things. But, hell, he’s probably seen you on your period before and you seemed to handle it just fine. Are these things normally this painful?

Shit, do you need a doctor? Are you in that much pain? Can periods hurt to the point of tears? He just doesn’t know with you.

But he decides after his long day that crying about it isn’t going to get you anywhere. So he swings the door open with a loud thud against the wall.

“I can hear you sobbing from out in the kitchen. What the hell is up with you?”

You gasp and lift your head up, sitting now. Your hands move to shield your eyes, but Levi heard it all. He walks over to you and sits down, paper bag on the floor.

His tone was harsh and abrasive as it normally is - and it’s enough to take you back to the ‘old times’ you two had together, or how things used to be - but how he feels on the inside will always betray how he looks on the outside. As mad as he is right now, his eyes are stinging a bit to see you cry, much like they always have. His heart feels heavy, like it’s weighing him down and being dragged behind him like a ball and chain.

Hange would always be the one who’d help you calm down when you cried. He’s seen you cry, but Hange would always be the one to walk you away so that you two could talk by yourselves. The late commander would say something reassuring.

And now, Hange wasn’t here.

It was just Levi and you.

You had been sobbing into your pillow and none of your friends were here. Neil wasn’t here, your mom, Hange. No one. It was just him.

And as much as he wanted to, he was only himself; he could not possibly replace them.

You’re gasping in deep strokes again, a new set of tears springing to your eyes.

He raises a hand. “Stop, stop…” his cold baritone causes you to stiffen and you stop sniffling for a few seconds.

But it was too much to stop now.

He steps over and sits beside you. There’s this distance between the two of you, probably just over a foot. There’s been this distance between the two of you ever since you moved in, and even when you’re sobbing, he still isn’t allowing himself to get close to you. You follow his eyes and see they’re staring at your hands. You had anxiously picked at them all day, skin peeling down below the cuticles of your nails. You trace further and see the way his hands have locked onto your golden band.

No way– is he…?

You twist the ring off and place it inside your bedside drawer, and while it’s small, his shoulders droop a bit in relaxation. You look back at him with blotchy eyes that are raw with tears. Your lower lip wobbles some more.

“What’s wrong, [F/n]?” he asked, voice so soft. It was one of the few times he addressed you in that tone since you moved in, or said your name so tenderly. It was as if he was frightened to say it any louder, lest he wanted the glass of water on your bedside locker to shatter.

“I-It’s– It all hurts…” is all you can say. “Everything hurts.”

He leans down and reaches inside the paper bag. Did he buy painkillers today? Damn it, he forgot. He heads out to the kitchen without a word and you reach out to grab him. Even with his leg being bad today, he still moved quick enough when the situation allowed him to. Still, when he returns with the painkillers from the bathroom, you don’t fail to notice the way he bites his lip in pain as he comes over to you.

“L-Levi? No… Y-You can go, please, if your leg hurts–”

“Shut up.” He dismisses, reading the back of the box. Nothing here on period pains, but he can assume it’s the same dosage for just a regular headache or muscle ache. He pops out a pill and makes you drink.

“B-But… Nothing hurts. Like, my head is fine–”

“I told Gabie you weren’t here and she acted. It’s for your cramps. Just take them.” You don’t know what he’s talking about, but you swallow it back anyway. You were probably going to end up with a headache later from all the crying anyway. “It’s… I could just… hear you crying from the kitchen and, well–”

You gulp and he hears it. Are you nervous?

“I’m sorry…” you say, voice weak and shaky, “today… everything is too much…” Levi turns to look at you properly now as you struggle to string together a sentence. There were many things that left Levi shocked to the core, and seeing you struggle under the weight of your emotions was definitely one of them. The way you looked at him again as you sobbed once more was what made his heart splinter.

“Everyone– and everything– is different… Everyone is gone. And I am all alone…” you wept. You think back to Erwin, how you never got to say goodbye. You think back to Simon - you could have been on the verge of a breakthrough. And you think about Hange who you were too slow to save. “I– I don’t like being alone, a-and…”

He purses his lips together in thought. “Isn’t it enough that I am here?”

Sheesh, he thinks to himself, that was presumptuous.

He was wrong for saying that, and he sees it immediately the way your jaw falls slack.

“Are you kidding? Y-You’ve been s-so unapproachable lately… I don’t know how to get through to you…” you sigh, waving your hands flippantly. Your breaths are erratic and you feel so unbelievably hot. Nevertheless, you continue. “You’re so different and colder. I-I never thought I’d miss you being an asshole so much!” you yelled.

He’s not a fool, of course he knows he’s been acting a bit different.

But he can’t help it; he feels he’s doing you a disservice by allowing himself to get closer - even closer and more involved than you were back on Paradis - when you still seem so in love with your dead husband. A man who didn’t deserve you, no less. But it was not the time to say that now. He doesn’t want to rush you into getting over him; he knows the journey of grief isn’t a linear path. And if looking fondly back on your husband, or thinking back to simpler times where he wasn’t in the picture helps you cope after everything you two have been through? Then he can try to live with it, especially if that’s what being with you means; always being second place.

He truly is a love-struck fool.

He has jumped the gun on assuming you are still hopelessly in love with the guy. But he finds it justified when the connection you two had right up to the marriage was cut and severed once you and Simon exchanged vows; once you started wearing that damn ring.

In the midst of his own introspection, he’s pulled to your chest. His eyes widen at the movement and he tries to fight it, but by god your hold on him is tight.

“I just– I need to know… I haven’t made the wrong choice in coming over here to find you again…” you wept.

He blinks rapidly in confusion. “Huh?” What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Maybe this is all my fault too… Maybe this was all too much for you. M-Maybe I… maybe I’m too much for you…” you whisper, relishing guiltily in the comfort of his warm body.

At this and without hesitation, he returns the gesture. His arms wrap around you tightly, and he exhales into the crook of your neck. It was an image you didn’t quite want to forget; your strong and perfect captain, allowing himself to sink to your level in order to comfort.

“I just miss everyone…” you whisper, your voice hoarse. “Please don’t leave me… I don’t think I could handle it.”

He pushes himself up and looks for your eyes again. You’re clutching onto his calloused hands, and he doesn’t want you to let go. He is no replacement for Hange or anyone else, but he hopes you can lean on him and depend on him. He’s not sure at what part of all this he realised this wasn’t just you being sick, but you were sad. Sick with sadness, or something - who knows.

“Are– Are you going to leave me too, Levi?”

“No.”

It’s the first time in a while he can answer a question without any doubt, or without having to weigh up any options. Without having to decide if this is a choice he’ll regret the least. He’ll take you in any form you give him; any version of you. There’s nothing he regrets when it comes to you.

“I’ve– I’ve seen you suffer in silence before, back when you were with him. Back when we used to fight Titans. You can pretend to be subtle all you want, but don’t think for a second I don’t notice it,” he warns, but it also doesn’t feel like a warning. You’re twiddling with his fingers still. Your fingertips trace every callous, freckle and hair. He loves the touch; he loves your touch. “I suppose it’s just us now… And I can’t just assume you’ll come to me when you’re like this–”

“But, I–”

He lets go of your hands to bring his index finger to his lips. “I’m still talking.”

He can do that much at least. Check in on you. And… maybe allow things to slowly return to the way they used to be. He rests a head on top of your hair though and ruffles it.

“Don’t cry in your room like some pissy hormonal teenager, though.”

And at this, you laugh. Genuinely, you laugh. Your laughter is something he could dance to, the soundtrack of his soul.

“What’s in this mysterious paper bag anyw– You did not!” You exclaim, emptying the contents of the bag on your bed.

Levi averts his gaze from you now, hoping you don’t catch the way his face flushes a bit. To be fair, he did his best with the information he had!

“What happened to your hand?” you piped up.

“Burned it while making tea.” He lies swiftly.

You start to chuckle a bit again, the thought of Levi rushing to the grocery store (with Gabie) to get you emergency period supplies was amusing. It actually made your heart surge a little bit. How was he supposed to know you were having a breakdown in your room?

“So this is what you meant by my cramps, that I don’t have. Did Gabie help you with all this?” you asked.

Levi got every single type of pad. Wings, no wings. Light, medium and heavy flow. There were also tampons, some dark chocolate and fizzy sweets. And to top it all off, a little candle. Yeah, your heart was definitely surging now. You looked up to smile softly at him, not caring whether he returned it or not.

“Those, uh– those sticky bits at the sides are called wings…” he mutters under his breath.

“Oh, really?” you asked. How did he know this? Were these a Marleyan thing? “Ahhh, I see, they stop it from– yeah, okay. I get it. That’s so clever.”

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what wings were.

“You know… Gabie told me another thing that helps when you’re on your period…” you began.

He quirked a brow. “You’re not on your period.” He corrected.

“Well, I am sad so that’s also a valid reason to go where we are going.”

The orange-gold hues of the clouds stretched far as the sun set. Amid the perfume of the blooms of late spring, you two were seated on a bench not too far from your apartment. Levi’s wheelchair laid folded up beside you two while you both ate out of the tubs.

“What’s the difference between this stuff and the ice-cream that Sasha was gushing about when we first came here?” he asked. His doubt aside, he was loving his zesty lemon gelato.

You, on the other hand, were quite content with the vanilla. “Hmm.. I don’t know, but it makes you feel better. This is easier on the stomach, I think?”

“Hmm.” Levi acknowledges, licking the wooden spoon contently. Colour him impressed; Levi likes gelato. “I suppose it’s the sweetness that makes people happy. Not a sweet person, you know that.”

“Levi, you’ve devoured the entire tub. Not a sweets person my ass.” You teased.

While the two of you bickered, a familiar little kitten came over. Levi groaned while you cheered. You lured her over with a little whisper and she quickly pounced up and nestled onto your lap.

“That thing has fleas, you know.”

“Well, I will take her home and get flea medicine and she’ll be as good as new!”

“You are not taking it home.”

Try as you might, pouting and putting on your best pair of puppy-dog eyes did not convince Levi. You bickered all the way home about this. There were so many benefits to owning a pet that he was ignoring entirely, focusing only on the amount of ‘shitty cat fur that he’d have to clean up.’

Now this was the way things used to be when things were good between you. When there was no stress about relationships or Titans or expeditions; you two could just annoy each other and bicker, and go on walks. Most of the time, the walks were in silence. But that was okay.

Levi decides then and there he wouldn’t mind you annoying him every day for the rest of his life.

You say goodnight to him as soon as you both make it back up to the shared apartment. He replies with his typical grunt and he tosses the two tubs into the bin. Shit, they tasted great. As he stretches and cracks all his joints, he spies the envelope that he left on the table that Ioana told him to read.

With his pocket knife on him - and has been since he was no older than ten - he slices it open and reads the contents inside, pulling out a pink form that had tons of questions on it.

It looked like a regular census form, but this one was very different. There was a line printed in bold and it rubbed him the wrong way as he read it.

“‘It has come to our attention that there are Eldians living in the listed residence. Please note the number of Eldians living here. Mark a tick in the respective box. Are you:

a) A Mainland Eldian

b) A naturalised Eldian from Paradis.’”

#cece; speaks #husbando tag <3 #levi ackerman #snk spoilers #aot spoilers #levi #levi x reader #cece; morgen #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #hanji zoe #levi x y/n

55 notes · View notes

peace-for-levi · 2 years

Text

Morgen: Chapter 2; Aduantas

content warnings: self-deprecating thoughts from levi, hints at terminal illness, injury-related gore. also it is mostly unedited, may have typos.

w/c: 5,000

read prev chapter here. || series masterlist

synopsis: you move into levi's apartment, you make fun of him for reading a romance novel and levi recounts on a promise he made

taglist: @starstruckkittensweets , @nelapanela94 , @maries-gallery , @levi-my-beloved , @pockcock , @levmada (lmk if you wanna be added to this!)

check out this amazing fanart by @wortverlust

The boat ride over to Marley took a few days. It was a ferry that took over Eldians wanting a better life, or a life away from Paradis and the painful memories there. Everything about the flower shop had been mostly arranged and had been dealt with by various vendors and shippers over the phone and through letters, and it was all settling nicely.

Moving in was going to be stressful though.

Levi sat on the orthopaedic chair as you unpacked your things. His knees were brought to his chest as he watched you place your things about.

Levi’s apartment wasn’t too big, and you brought many things. Maybe you had underestimated how much space your new roommate would have. Levi lived a pretty minimalist lifestyle so there was more than enough space for one person, but two? Oh, there’d be some acclimatising for sure.

You marvelled at the balcony Levi had in his apartment, happy to see it was there. But it didn’t seem to be used. There was a chair out there, but you could tell it was probably never used since he moved in. The wooden shutter doors to it were closed, and they were the first thing you perused. You pushed them open and noticed how much space there was. Enough space for a table and chair. Granted, the view from the balcony wasn’t fantastic: just a brick wall which had overgrown ivy crawling all over it, and you could hear kids running up and down the alleyway playing ball.

There was enough space for some of your plants too, which had Levi widening his eyes at your suggestion and was quick to turn it down…

“I know what you’re like, you won’t take care of it and it’ll end up being me taking care of your fucking plant.”

“-First of all, it’s called an orchid and second-”

“[Y/n.]”

And that was it. End of discussion.

Not like you wouldn’t challenge it though.

Once it looked like you had stopped packing - temporarily - Levi gave you the not-so-grand tour of his tiny apartment.

He showed you the kitchen and cooking area that had quite a few cupboards given the cramped space. There would only ever be enough space for one person to access the oven and hobs, fridge or sink at one time. The other person would have to wait their turn. The sink had a dish rack at the side, sparklingly clean dishes stacked up and cleaned by Levi from last night. There was a collection of spices to the left of the dish rack, you counted at least ten. Did Levi like to cook?

He hobbled down the hall that was connected to the kitchen and living area and showed you your bedroom. It was at the very end of the hall. It only made sense that Levi got the bedroom closest to the kitchen, given his leg. In between the two bedrooms was the shared bathroom, you assumed. He showed you inside the shared room and it was as pristine as you’d imagine a bathroom in Levi’s home to be. White porcelain tiles ran across the walls and floor, and there was not a hint of mould anywhere. There was a hanging, water-proof container in the shower and it was empty. Possibly for your own things.

Finally, he showed you the bedroom. It was not like your room back on Paradis; for starters, the windows weren’t on the walls. They were on the ceiling and there was a draw blind and a pole for you to pull with.

“Sometimes it’ll get stuck, so I’d recommend investing in an eye mask.” He had warned you.

It was clean, yet knowing the room had its little faults already - such as the draw blind, or the creaking chest of drawers - made it feel like someone lived here before. Probably past tenants, but it didn’t have that “new house” smell.

You began to unpack your things after he finished his tours, folding your clothes and placing them in your drawer. You didn’t pack much clothes - if anything, most of your items were plant and flower related - and you knew you’d need to get more once you made a profit here. You put away your good clothes and your clothes for work, mainly consisting of looser culottes for working and different coloured blouses.

On top of the dresser, you placed the books you bought. Mostly classics, but there was a mostly empty sketch pad. The first page had already been drawn in. The picture with all the lilies.

Finally, after decorating a bit more with a few candles and some flowers, you pull out a painted picture of him.

Neil was his name.

You gulped looking at it, teeth coming down to bite down on your lower lip.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t do more…” you murmured, aloud.

Neil had messy, red hair and green eyes. He had a pointed nose and was the same height as the late Erwin Smith. Of course, Erwin beat him when it came to seriousness most of the time. But that didn’t stop Neil Larsson taking his job as Squad Leader seriously.

“Oi,” came Levi’s voice. Crap, did he hear you talking to yourself (the painting)?

“What is it?”

“Dinner, may I come in?” he said. With an ‘mhmm’ from you, he pushed the door open and had come in with a pole. He took your old one and you nodded thanks, leaving ahead of him.

The pole was stronger, and he hooked the draw blind shut and the room was enshrouded in darkness. Still, enough light came in from the hallway and kitchen. Enough light for him to see the painting of Neil.

He picks it up gently, knowing it was probably five years old at least and prone to tearing.

He wonders if you have moved on yet - it had been a few years after all - but then he remembers you have yet to take the wedding band off.

Probably not then.

He places the painting down and joins you in the kitchen

You had never expected Levi to be a good cook. Not that you doubted his abilities, but you had never seen him cook before. But as you sat on the sectional sofa with the dinner table standing before you, your eyes caught some purchased cooking books. You thought they were empty purchases but as you flicked through them, you saw pencilled in alterations to the ingredients, particularly towards anything in the baked goods containing sugar.

It seems Levi Ackerman had developed a bit of a sweet tooth while he was away from Paradis.

With gentle movements, the aglio e olio was placed in front of you. You could faintly smell a bit of lemon that he had sprinkled over.

“Fork and spoon? Or are you going to eat like a child?” he asked as he served himself up a portion, holding a fork and spoon in one hand.

“I’ll take both.”

You stood up and reached out to grab the utensils from him and your fingers momentarily laced around his. He was quick to stop dishing up and looked back at you.

He could still feel the fucking ring.

Well, that’s what he got for thinking about it ever since he saw you outside the empty building a few hours ago. He swallowed thickly and returned his gaze to the spaghetti once you returned to the table.

He wanted to throw it out the window, the ring. Fuck, why did it have to be still on your finger? After all these years? He knew the answer, but he was trying to convince himself that the reasons behind it were completely illogical and irrational.

He has to pause and reel himself in when he catches the anger and jealousy bubble up inside him. He has been aching for your presence for a year - he should be happy.

He goes to sit down in front of you and twirls the spaghetti on his fork. You don’t hear any slurping, and he makes no mess as he slurps. Neat and not messy, the way he was known to you. Only his mind was all messed up now that you were here.

His mouth moved before he registered what he had uttered. “Did you move next to me on purpose?”

It didn’t mean to come out that way. Shit, why can’t he be good with words? He was more than happy pining for you while you two lived your separate lives with an ocean flowing between you both. He was fine. He was good. He was great (not really, but he will convince himself that he was.)

And in the blink of an eye, you two were roommates.

Was your nighttime routine different to his? What’s he supposed to do now? Do you two eat breakfast together in awkward silence the way you two are eating dinner now? Who buys the groceries?

He loved worrying about these things because he knew lives weren’t on the line regardless of what decisions you two came to regarding your living situation. But saints he was not used to this, to worry about things of very little consequence.

“Yes, Levi, I’m good. You know, it’s customary to ask the person who you haven’t seen in a year how they are first,” you insisted.

It wasn’t necessarily on purpose. It was just the letting you could afford, but you were on the fence about leaping across the pond just to set up a flower shop on a whim. But when the landlord told you he had a tenant who lived next door who was a bit anti-social, was an injured soldier from the War of Heaven and Earth and owned a tea shop, you quickly signed the lease and paid the necessary down payment.

“Can we call it fate and leave it at that? You should be delighted to see me, we were like besties!” you chimed.

Stiff silence brimming with palpable tension fell between the two of you. You clear your throat and try to move the conversation along.

Is there a point, you wonder? Because back in headquarters before the Rumbling, you two would talk and have conversations, but sitting in silence drinking tea was equally enjoyed.

“I, uh-- I’m sorry, Levi,” you mumbled. “Things are different and tense and I know that, it’s wrong for me to expect things to go back to normal--”

Levi stopped you from speaking by pushing his chair out and standing up. He left his half-eaten dinner on its plate and placed it in the fridge.

“I’m sorry…” you found yourself saying as he hobbled away. “Levi!”

He turned around slowly and the haggard look on his face almost made you not want to speak ever again. “What?”

He still answered. He’d always answer to you no matter how much his head ached or how full his heart felt with emotions he still didn’t know how to express.

“You’ll eat that later, won’t you?”

If it was Sasha asking that question, perhaps he’d lose his damn mind because that meant, “So can I eat that later?”

But you always asked him these questions.

“You’ll eat that later, won’t you?”

“You’ll try to go to sleep, won’t you, Levi?”

“Levi, why not get some air?”

It was your way of asking, If I’m not there, will you still look after yourself? Whether that meant you not being there for a few hours, or you never being there again, he never knew - and never wanted to know - but he knew it was you asking him to care for himself no matter how in his head he got.

Maybe it did mean the latter though, because there was one time when you had locked yourself inside the infirmary for two months. You were simply too caught up in your own situation to care for other people. He had to look after himself then, without you reminding him of the basic things - no matter how bad his mental health got. He had to be there for himself when you couldn’t be there for him, even when you couldn’t be there for yourself at that time.

It was funny how the power dynamic had reversed itself for those two months back in 850… How he had become the person to bring you dinner in the infirmary and with a cup of tea, or how he’d knock on the door to your bedroom that had exploded into a study of books and loose parchment papers to remind you to sleep. Or how he reminded you, much like Hange, to go take a bath (but he always phrased it nicely to you.)

And he always did this while watching you wear the bravest of faces nearly every damn day.

And he hated that face, because it was so normal-looking.

Unreadable, even.

Much like him.

–

You walked through the aisles of the grocery store a few hours later once Levi told you how to get there. Most of your flower shop had been sorted out for its grand opening tomorrow. The flowers had been watered and tended to, the cash register was set up. You had been working at the display all day.

Should you buy some decorations at the furniture store?

Wait, shit, where was the furniture store?

Scratch that.

You did decide that you were going to cook for Levi tomorrow since he cooked tonight. Maybe that would become a routine? Maybe you two could establish a routine again? Drinking tea, doing paperwork, exercising–

Wait, Levi probably wouldn’t be doing that as much. He retained most of his muscle, but he had no reason - nor the ability - to train as hard as he used to.

On your way to the grocery store, a cat had followed you all the way back home. It took a bit of shooing to make it go away and give you a bit of space to think about what you wanted to get. (You always told yourself you’d bring a list, but never did.)

You picked up a few more things before walking idly around the store, familiarising yourself with this new environment but when the shopkeeper announced the closing hours were approaching, you hurried out.

You walked through the door of the shared apartment shortly after dusk had settled. You hung your waistcoat on the coat hanger and scuffled out of your shoes. That was when you heard a loud thud and a pained groan coming from down the hall. The groan had an echo to it, so it had come from the bathroom.

“Levi?!” you called out, your feet moving on their own accord. You heard hand sticking to the floor as he crawled over to hurriedly shut the door in your face. “Levi, are you okay? Did you fall?”

You knew the answer, no other thud could have made a sound like that. And given Levi’s condition, you assumed he must have had falls often. You had seen the wound before, but once you heard he had surgery, you naively assumed his leg could have been saved.

“Go away.” You heard. You felt your heart splinter a bit. As cold as his tone was, you could hear the wobble in its tone; he hurt himself badly.

“Levi, let me in.” You replied, immediately.

“I said, go away.”

His voice was harsher this time, and it sounded like a warning. Please, I can’t have you seeing me this way, he wanted to say, but of course, his words would never come out like that.

His back was to the door and the pain was pulsing and throbbing, radiating white hot pain up and down his leg, up to his head. He could feel it through his teeth and in his ears. He is normally concerned not of the injury to his leg, but the injury this ordeal has done to his brain; the way it has changed the way others perceive him. He’s no longer Humanity’s Strongest, but saints he wishes he was. He was more invincible that way.

“You either let me in, or I am kicking the door down. You know I am strong enough to.”

And he knows you are indeed strong enough. It wouldn’t take too much strength for you to punch through it and unlock it from the inside yourself.

Plus, he didn’t want to get in trouble with his landlord.

With whatever strength he could muster, he kneels and unlocks the door before shuffling away, leaning up against the bathtub.

You stepped inside and noted he had changed to looser, loungewear pants. He was wearing a grey tank top and his signature bangs were hanging in his face as he leaned his forehead against his knee. The sight had you dropping your Lilies of the Valley bouquet and sinking down with him.

“What is it? What happened?” you asked, and he pointed up to the open mirror. It was one of those mirrors you could slide to the side and would reveal a few shelves. You stood up and took note of the pain medications, salves and other various medicines for not-so-serious ailments like fever medication, cough syrup, or decongestants. There was also a razor, scissors and shaving cream, and other small things for basic hygiene.

He was pointing to some alcohol solution, and you stood up to reach it.

“I’ll need a cloth too.” He spoke out.

You put two and two together. “You were getting ready to clean your wound, but tripped and missed the solution.” You deduced.

He had decided to do this while you were out.

He really didn’t want you seeing him like this, it seems.

You acquired a white, cotton cloth, a bucket and filled it up with tap water. The water sloshed around in the bucket, spilling on the floor a small bit. You’d deal with that later though. You sat down beside Levi and leaned forward, pinching the bottom of his loose pants.

“Roll these up, I’ll clean it.”

Levi turned to look at you like you had three heads. “What?”

“Just do what I say.” Your voice was commanding.

It was very hard to disobey you when your tone switched like that. It would scare even the toughest of soldiers, how you could ‘snap’ like that. Scared wouldn’t have been the right word for Levi, but he knew not to otherwise test you. He rolled up the legs of his pants. He folded it back until you could start to see the discolouration of his normally pallid skin, now marred with etches of pink that twirled and contorted into a viscous, angry-looking web of scar tissue. Looked like a gnarled tree trunk, too twisted up and mutilated with no hope of healing back properly. The scar dipped in an inch or two - you weren’t sure, but it was a ghastly looking dip in his flesh - and you could make out some teeth marks from the Titan that got him if you squinted.

“Relax…” you whispered softly, and Levi’s head lolled back to rest against where your arms would rest on the bathtub. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see any of your reactions, but was dying to see them at the same time.

It hurts.

It’s ugly.

I am ugly. I am hideous.

These thoughts plague him every day as they do now, and were amplified whenever he brought his fingers up to smooth under his marred face.

Please don’t look at me.

You had opted to not use the alcohol solution, not wanting to exacerbate his pain anymore than what it already was. You draped your argyle cardigan around him, and his hands already went to fist the woollen article of clothing in preparation of the pain he was about to feel. You submerged the cloth into the water and squeezed out the excess.

Then it made contact with his thigh and he hissed.

You had to bite down on your inner lip to not show that your heart was bleeding to see him in this state. Your other thumb had taken to rubbing circles in his good leg, hoping he’d focus on that sensation. You moved the cloth along the rough skin, cleaning it as gently as you could.

“Shit…” he groaned through gnashed teeth.

You stopped and left the cloth hanging over the edge of the bucket. You look at him, begging for him to come back and look at you. He feels your pleading eyes and he returns the gaze. Your face is one of sympathy and pity.

“Don’t… look at me like that…” he murmurs. Your thumb went to tap the edge of his scar, looking at it again as if you had some childlike curiosity and admiration for it. “D-Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Stop looking at it.”

You looked back at him now, obeying his wishes. “Why, though?”

“It’s not pretty.”

“Well, it’s a scar. It’s not meant to look ‘gorgeous’, per se…” you began, and looked back down. “Doesn’t mean it’s ugly either.”

He felt his heart lurch forward a bit upon hearing that. He was expecting you to be so repulsed by it, by him. He knows you had been seeing such injuries - and far worse - for years, but… that time of your lives was now over. You had a year of not being injured or seeing people come back from failed expeditions. Perhaps he was naive - again - to think that you were gonna be sensitive and squeamish about this.

Because you were right. It was just a scar.

But how did his face look to you?

Was he not scary? Hideous?

He doesn’t ask or say anything about it, not wanting to put you on the spot. You go to clean again.

Your movements are slow, languid and in no hurry. They’re gentle, and he wants more of your touch. He’s addicted and he’s hungry. He wants your touch in other areas of his body, but he scolds himself as soon as such a lustful thought comes into his mind. He has to scrunch his face together and think of something else - anything else - to distract himself.

There’s silence apart from his occasional pained grunts, and you roll the leg of his pants down again once you let the water air-dry. You didn’t want fabric sticking to his wound.

“What were you doing before this?” you asked.

“Reading, in the living room.” He replied. He sounded haggard, but you expected as much.

You helped him up and you offered to assist him to the living room, but he refused saying he’d be fine with his cane instead. A small battle of the wills ensued between the pair of you, but Levi could and would be just as stubborn. He hobbled over to his orthopaedic chair and let his bad leg rest on the ottoman before pulling out the book he was reading again. In the meantime, you changed into your pyjamas.

It had been a long day.

You clambered out again in pastel coloured camisole top and shorts and Levi had to glue his eyes into his book or he was sure he’d stop breathing.

You plopped down in front of him with your own book and as you read the blurb of his book, you audibly gasped.

“Levi… are you reading a romance novel?”

“Shut up.”

You gasped again and sprung to your feet, sitting on the armrest of his chair. You eyed the words and giggled. “‘Their hands intertwined and they looked at’-- Levi this is a romance novel!”

“Shut up!”

Giggling like a schoolgirl you sat before him again, you turned open the pages of your own book. The candles in the room had been lit and created a soothing atmosphere which was very much needed after what happened in the bathroom. The sitting room glowed amber, the only thing that was missing was a fireplace. That would be truly relaxing.

“So… Do you have many romance novels, Levi?”

Levi let out a grunt in response, not wanting to answer. But he did after a few minutes. “Bookshelf next to me, I’m in the middle of a series… But there are also classics, thrillers, poetry collections and some encyclopaedias.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to see you have become a bookworm of sorts. It’s honestly kinda cute!”

Heat rose to Levi’s cheeks immediately, he lifted the book up further to hide any such evidence. Also to hide his line of sight from looking directly at your short pyjamas. He wasn’t complaining - far from it actually - but it was not a sight he wanted burned into his brain on the very first day you two started living together.

You went back to your flower bouquet and went to find an appropriate vase or jug of water and placed them on the table, separating them so that every flower could get some of the sunlight that would shine through Levi’s lovely shutter doors and windows.

“I know we got off to a rough-ish start here, but Lilies of the Valley symbolise newfound happiness… And, well, I know I am happy I have come here.” You spoke aloud, assuming he wasn’t listening.

But he was. He listened to everything you said, and more.

He would always keep an eye on you and look after you.

Not because he wanted, but because he swore to.

There was a knocking against the door, and Levi was taken out of the trance of his paperwork. He just had to sign his name at the bottom of the death certificates, but it was very easy to become hypnotised looking at the same coloured paper, doing the same, monotonous movement with your hand.

“What.”

“It’s Neil Larsson, sir. May I come in?”

Levi stiffened in his seat at the mention of your partner. He had never come to speak to Levi without you, or unless there was a meeting with all the Squad Leaders. What would warrant a visit now, and so late?

“Come in.” He said with a great exhale.

The candles lit on Levi’s desk almost made Neil’s hair shine orange and it made his deep, green eyes look cavernous and invitingly warm. He smooths his hair back before sitting before the Captain, as he always did before speaking to a superior. He sits at the edge and brings his elbows to his knees, resting his head in his hands. Levi knew at this moment this was going to be a serious discussion.

Neil doesn’t speak and Levi has to ask him to speak up or he is getting sent out.

“I know you and [F/n] are close,” he began, and Levi’s scribbling stopped. “So in that regard, please look after her after and just… be there for her.”

Levi eyed him precariously. He had every intention of doing that, though under the guise of him being his usual asshole self. Neil stood up then, prepared to leave as quickly as he walked through the door.

And that was when he fell down, totally unprompted. Levi hummed in response, but when the man didn’t get up immediately after falling, Levi stood up to assist him.

“No need to be so dramatic…” he mumbled and bent down to assist him up.

“It’s been happening all the time, Captain Levi.”

The shorter man quirked a brow. “What, you being a klutz?”

“The doctors have told me it’s not me being a klutz.” Neil stated, matter-of-factly. His green eyes searched for his superior’s grey ones, asking him to listen and take him seriously. “I need you to promise me, sir, to look out for her when I…”

Levi didn’t say anything, looking into the eyes of green intensely. Levi took note of his leg twitching and spasming a small bit. He reached out and placed his hand on it, to stop the seemingly ceaseless movements.

“I’m dying, sir, and I don’t have much time left… Promise me you’ll look out for [F/n] when I go.”

#levi x f!reader #husbando tag <3 #levi ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #cece; writing #cece; morgen #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot #snk #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader smut

75 notes · View notes