#levi ackerman oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nelapanela94 · 2 years

Note

Hi Nela , i wanted to request a fic, an angsty one at that, where it is set in cannonverse. So, a colleegue of levi dies on a mission and she harbored strong feelings for him for a long time in secret, but she cant pass and her spirit keeps looming over him watching until fate makes him realize that she was deeply in love with him , and who knows maybe they'll be together in another lifetime. You're welcome to make changes or add anything . Get well soon 😊 🙏

😊Hi Anon! Thank you!!!! I'm feeling way better now, and than you so much for the request!!!

tw: Angsty, depiction of physical injuries and death.

wc: ~13k

Summary: Doomed to spend eternity in a wedge between heaven and hell, mourning a love that could not be, Y/N has only one way to escape her desolate fate. Will she find a way to make Levi aware of the feelings she has secretly harbored for him?

You were noise and silence muting my soul.

Fury and lull.

tears and laughter.

The promise and a perhaps

confusing my skin.

You were all and nothing.

You are what never was and will never be.

The storm and oblivion.

An hourglass upside down.

Gravel crunch under your feet. You’re running towards the light, but the line that divides brightness and darkness recedes with every step you take. No matter how fast you run, your feet never skim the glowing gold. The gleam warms your skin like a mother caress lulling you to sleep. Barren soil becomes grass, tall grass that gobbles up and pricks your ankles. Dew wicks your white, flowing skirts. You clutch the twill in your fists and lift so as not to trip and fall. Despite the voluminous dress, you feel light, weaving through with such litheness. Like a feather swirling in an airstream.

You enter the woods, sticks of light pour through the boughs and sprigs, hundreds-year-old trees stand there and proud like sentinels, flanking the way to the great beyond. Their entwined branches claw at the sky like pleading arms. The air holds the balmy aromas of honey and oak, mingled with the smell of petrichor. Your hair whips around your face, and the whisper of the gentle breeze soothes you, trimming away the suffering. The pain has waned. No more blood is gushing out. The wounds on your flesh sewn back as if seconds or minutes has spooled backwards. As if the reels were collected. But time is moving forward. The earth continues whirling around the sun. Your lips curve up into a smile of relief when you spot the last wall of trees.

You just have to follow the light to the world where souls wallow in ambrosial fragrance and revel in the divine twang of harps.

A frosty gale whirs with the intensity of a hurricane, prickling your arms and face with a thousand needles, and the lustre shrinks. The elation fades from your gaze, giving way to a grimace of dismay. Confusion, fear, chagrin sting your face. The darkness that enfolds you is so dense you can’t see your fingers wiggling before you. The sheer quietness is jarring, and you’re left alone with your unsettling thoughts. A throe of anguish whacks you right in the chest and bolts through your limbs. Blotches of your last moments snag your senses: the pungent stench of iron, wires buzzing, dismembered bodies, spatters of crimson, the ear-splitting shouts and pleas, the twinging pain surging through your leg and side and neck, the bark of a tree chaffing your back.

The little hairs behind your neck bristle in awareness. Chills bite you. Despair crawls under your skin like rolling-out barbed wire. A razor-sharp beat springs in your chest, and your heart leaps into your throat. Your mouth unhinges to scream, but nothing comes out.

You run, the fear of being trapped in that prison of murk is more harrowing than the fear of stumbling and smashing your face on the floor. What's the worst that could happen if you're already dead?Though, no matter where you go, there’s no sign or a sliver of light that gives you hope.

A dire laughter rises, and you stop in your tracks, turning your head in different directions with frenzy. Your breath comes out in a rush of panic, and your chest tightens into a knot. Something or someone rejoices in your plight. The laugh is like a throaty rasp scraping your ears with the most abrasive sandpaper.

You close your eyes shut, clamping them so tight you see stars sparkling behind your eyeballs, threatening to explode. You hunch. Your hands cover your ears, yet the dreadful sound seeps through. Your face is dampened and warm with tears. Chin wobbling. Your sobs and weeps tangle with the sardonic guffaw composing a brash tune that prickles your eardrums.

Is this how eternity will be? How bad have been your sins? Is this a fair sentence for stealing an eraser in first grade? Now you have no chance to apologize to Toby. Maybe for cheating in math? For the white little lies? For…

Whops bang with furor where your heart is supposed to be. You raise your head defiantly, and crack your eyes to the nothingness, mustering courage from who knows where, and open your mouth to shout ‘Whose there?’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘What are you?’ ‘Where am I?’ But your queries clog in your throat like a fireball. You try to stroke a syllable and coat it in your voice, but all you feel is lava trickling down to your chest. You give another try, stubborn as you are– that’s why you ended up here in first place. But this time shards of glass are forced down your throat.

You gag, your fingers curling around your neck as you tumble on your knees. A hiss dashes out through gritted teeth, tears piquing your eyes at the brazen pain of nails stabbing your calves.

Right when you’re about to give up and yield to your fate, looming in the infinite darkness, the gloom begins recoiling into a smoky shade of wispy edges. Black branches gnarl on white, slipping on the indefinite floor and walls, giving form to a soaring shape before you. It grows a bald head with ears, a torso with arms and legs and fingers and toes. No nose, no eyes, no mouth. Yet.

The cold dwindles. Your face rucks up, eyes shut tight, and you turn away from the blinding beam. It expands to the infinite, to your right, left, front, and back. You take a peek through a slivered open eye and there’s no elongated shadow cast on the floor, as if the light is coming from nowhere, a beam without source.

“Make up your mind.” A sour scorn jabs your ears. “Darkness makes you weep, and light vexes you.”

You lurch back, wide eyes full of fright trembling at the figure standing in front of you. Its arms are folded over its chest, foot tapping on the floor, sketching rippling waves on the surface as if you were standing on a shallow lagoon. A wide toothy grin sprains up to where its eyes are supposed to be.

Your quivering lips part to speak, but this time, what’s holding you back is pure panic, seizing every inch of your body. Spreading from flesh to bones.

“Has the cat got your tongue?”

Your stomach churns, and words heap in your throat. Terror glides beneath your skin.

It sighs and shrugs, its palms facing up. “You must be wondering where are you? And why?”

You gulp, guzzling down the knot, and it takes it like a yes.

It conjures a scroll, unfurls it, and your eyes follow the paring roll until it brushes your feet. The shadow figure reads for itself the intricately engraved markings, whispering in an unrecognizable language, and you wonder how it can read without eyes. It rewinds the manuscript and slides it back into a pouch that slits in its belly. It brings a fist to its mouth, and harrumphs, tilting its head up.

You tip your head to the side, one eyebrow shot upward.

"After inventorying your sins and good deeds, we ruled out the underworld for you. Stealing an eraser from a six-year-old is not frowned upon by the higher ups, nor is lying to your parents.” It shakes its head accusatorily, then bursts into a flaming, whirling form, tittering, and swirling around you. Its voice leaves a somber echo. “Saying you'd stay over with your girlfriends to wantonly cede to the fangs of debauchery.” It reverts to its demi human form and brings its hands to under its chin, steepling its fingers, tips tapping. “What would your parents think if they found out you were sneaking out with the baker's son?” It scratches its head. “Anyway, according to the guidelines, that's not considered a felony. Squashing a cockroach doesn't count as murder. But as you may have noticed,”–it lifts a finger and whirls it in the air. Your eyes dart around, and it continues, “this isn't heaven either. Your application to paradise was rejected." It yawns. "So, you got caught in the middle. No agony, no bliss. Nothing. Just you and me."

You blink twice.

You lower your head, gazing up at it, lashes flitting. “Is there anything I can do to get out of here?” you ask coyly, swinging your head from side to side.

“I thought you were a mute.”

Your frown, folding your arms over your chest. “That doesn’t answer my question.” Irritation enfolds your voice. Your fingers drum over your upper arms as your eyes go blank.

“Try another one.”

“What are you?”

Its smile is sprightly this time.

"I am only a messenger and the one who takes you to your destination, but because of you, we are both trapped in here. We messengers are bound to the souls until we deliver this to gatekeepers of heaven or hell." He fumbles in its back pocket, draws a green gem and holds it in front of you between his thumb and forefinger. "If I don't hand it over, I won't untie myself from you. As simple as that."

"And what did I do? Why can't I get into paradise?" you scowl, jutting out your lower lip. Hands resting on your hips.

"To let shame and the fear of rejection consume you, to let the chances you had to tell him slip away." It raps its tapered fingers on your temple for every word as if he’s drilling a hole.

“Ouch!” Your face contorts as you rub the side of your head.

“You wasted all your chances, crumpled them and threw them in the bin.”

You know exactly that it means. You were brooding over that matter, but you were going to do it, you were determined to spill it out right after the expedition.

But fate dissented.

At least you would have someone to talk to. For ages.

Like a blown-up flame, it snaps away, and panic surges through you again. Lousy company was better than being alone in nothingness. At least it would keep you diverted from your thoughts.

Then, something brushes your nape from behind, grating you like a rough jute blanket, making shivers run down your spine.

It’s light and sturdy, the sensation on your shoulders. The hands squeeze you, and you freeze in the spot. Your body feels so heavy you can’t move, you can’t fight. Its teeth nip your neck, and you loll your head back. You swear you feel its breathing fanning over the thrumming spot beneath your jaw. But it doesn’t even have a nose.

Your muscles tense, and your breath comes out in muffled pants, your legs squirm at the tempting groping. Your eyes close, and you make a huge mistake.

Its palms march down, its mouth nibbles on your neck, and you hate it feels so good. A feeble moan leaps out of your lips.

You can feel the gibing smirk curving against your cheeks.

Your face slathers with deep red.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you.” It’s arms slither around you, holding you tight. That’s not its croaky voice; it’s husky, and soft, and deep, like a rasp of silk, laced with lust. A voice you know too well, a voice that make your knees wobble and your heart gallop.

But a tinge of mockery lingers at the end of each syllable. And you know it’s just teasing with you.

“Leave me alone!!!” you creak. Your hands anchor to its arms and hurl them off. Its obnoxious laughter gurgles out in a hoarse scour.

It lets go, and you spin around.

But it’s not a black human-shaped shadow with the acerbic grin and warped edges. No.

Dizzy with repulsion, you heave, air lodges in your throat, and even if you don’t need oxygen anymore, you feel you’re running out of breath. Your guts wrench.

Levi stands in front of you. Those are his features, those lips you dreamed to kiss, his nose, his expressive thin brows, because, what his heart tucks in, and his words can’t give form, his brows give away.

That silky hair you always wanted to smooth down, to entwined those locks between your fingers and let them slip through.

But there is something off.

The eyes. Not steel gray with a hue of blue, but green, bright green like the stone it showed you twiddling in its fingers. Pale smoke swirls through its gaze.

Scowling, you snarl, “I hate you!”

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he inches closer, pointing forward his puckered lips into a kiss. “I love you Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Marry me. We’ll live in the outskirts of the city and bless our home with kids.” He holds his hands together, fingers intertwined, sighing dreamily. A cheap lampoon.

Your brows twitch, your cheeks flushed red. Hands fisting your white skirts. “SHUT UP!”

Your voice echoes, stretching to the endlessness.

“He’ll never say that!” You spit.

“Of course he won’t. You’re dead.” He rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for being so empathetic.” You huff. “I mean, he would’ve never said it that way.”

“Enlighten me then. So I can give you a perfect personification. I’d make your stay more… pleasant.”

No. You don’t want this shoddy illusion. It might look like him, but it’s not him.

“Is there anything I can do?”

The fake Levi pokes a finger in his nose. “For what?”

“To get out of here.”

“You had your chance, you missed it.” He sniffs the booger and flicks it away with his thumb.

“But–“

“It hurts my feelings you don’t want to stay with me.” He splays a hand on his chest and feigns cry. “I promise I’ll be a good partner to roam with in the eternity.”

“I don’t give a shit about your feelings!” You holler back. "I need to get out of here."

“You’re so mean Y/N.” His chin trembles. You loath the way he says your name. Stench coating every letter. “There’s something you can do”

Your eyes fill with hope.

“But I won’t tell.” He turns his face away gruffly.

“Fuck you!”

“That’s not ladylike, Y/N. I’ll lather your mouth with water and soap.”

You blow off a lock of hair from your eyes.

“Tell me.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll give you anything.”

The fake Levi smirks. “Anything?”

“I mean–” you quaver.

“There’s nothing you can give me, there’s nothing I want from you.” He grips your jaw, impelling you to look at him. You try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re a pretty one, but I don’t feel–what’s what you call it? Desire? That’s not something I was created for. And your soul? I’m already tethered to you.”

He releases you. A burn of ice scorches where his fingers had pressed.

“Please tell me.”

“I’m not a god, or a devil, or a genie in a bottle.” His lizard green eyes stain with mischief as an idea hatches in his head. What you don’t know is that he only wants to play. “Just so you can see that I’m not as hateful as you think I am, I’ll tell you. There’s only one way, Y/N. You have to shear the thread, the pending issue that keeps you stuck here. You have to tell him what you feel.”

Your eyes furrow. “And how do I do that?”

“I can’t solve everything in your life. Death.” He corrects himself. “Your soul will roam among the living, and you must find a way to deliver the message.”

“How long do I have?”

“Until he dies. If he dies and you can’t tell him, I’ll drag you back here.” He gives you a coy smile. “You have a lifetime, his lifetime.”

You clear your throat to speak, but his voice slices into peals of laughter.

Cracks splinter down its head, neck, and shoulders; black leaks through the crevices, like twisting loose black curls seeping out like water, pooling and spreading boundlessly. It fragmentizes. The shards of the Levi shell it wore disintegrate, melting as in acid. They hiss, and roiling threads of lawn-green smoke swirl above them, wisp edges blur in the nothingness. Your fumbling legs don’t move, they don’t respond to your commands. You look down and spot the half dozen of snaky limbs trussing your limbs, seizing them, pulling you down. Your face is frozen in a snarl of panic. Your chest tightens, and your throat clogs, and you can’t make a sound.

There are no prankish smirk or green eyes. A menacing void daubs in your stomach, smearing to your chest and throat. A maw full of fangs cracks open beneath your feet.

Here you stand frozen, blackness consuming you; inch by inch, you drown in quicksand. The more you struggle the faster you sink. Pain lances up through your feet, sudden and sharp. You gaze down in search of a wound, but your ankles are already submerged under the blackness. Its laughter becomes a strident noise as pain climbs and infects your calves and shins and soon it’s twisting your knees, your thighs, your hips and on.

Your raucous weep encroaches the piercing chortle. Your throat flares up as you tug at the collar of your dress, trying to tear it apart, but it clings into your skin, cinching tighter. Tears wedge out through the line of your lashes, pampering your face, stinging your lips. The saltiness swabs your mouth.

“Those who risk nothing don’t deserve to go to hell or to the altars.” Its hoarse voice echoes, each syllable thrums in your ears.

A tinkling, and it all shatters.

Legs flutter, arms flounder.

You’re falling, falling, swallowed by the abyss.

Supple snores brush past his lightly parted lips. You watch his back rise and fall steadily. One arm stretched out. His cheek is sprawled on the last document he was reviewing last night before dozing off with the quill trapped in his fingers. The blotch of black expanded in a circle with warped edges until it ran out of ink.

He looks cute, you think. In your eyes he always looks adorable. Even with the creases sullying between his eyebrows, and his arms crossed over his chest.

Serenity envelops him, granting him a few hours of well-deserved peace.

Three hours.

He did well last night.

You poke him, try to, but the tip of your finger doesn’t dent his pillowy cheek. Instead, it goes through him. A reminder that you’re here, but not. Between cero and one there’s an infinity, just like between you and him. You strew your hand and bring it over his cheek, flimsily caressing, but you feel nothing under your phantom touch. There’s no warmth, nor the tenderness of his skin. You wonder whether he feels something when you’re looming around, a sudden cold or warmth, the air lighter or denser. You take every chance you get to tangle yourself in his hair, to breath down on his neck, supplicating that he can feel you.

But you had your time to gamble, and you missed your shot.

Feel me.

He’s slobbering, a cord of saliva dribbles out, spattering the letters in charcoal black. His khaki jacket is perched on the backrest. His cravat hooked loosen around his neck. The firsts two buttons of his shirt undone.

Two years ago, heat would have grazed your core by a tiny bit of exposed skin. A simple glimpse of ripping collarbones, or broad shoulders, rippling muscles or a glance of his perfectly sculpted chest, or veiny arms, or…

You shake off the naughty thoughts.

Even two years after, a single peek of any inch of his flesh has the same effect on you.

You can’t help it. It’s always been like that, even a simple exchange of Hi’s had your legs shaking, and your cheeks broiling red as if his gaze and his voice have caught you in a spell. You are the sun that runs helplessly behind the moon.

But it’s not just the straightforward gravity of lust that had you spinning around his orbit. Yes, Levi got the looks–though others might demur–but it’s much more than carnal desire. You could always see through his façade, wondering how much energy and self-restrain it takes to keep it on all the time. But if you look heedfully, if you don’t succumb to the intensity of his gaze and the chastisement of his frown, you can see it. The Levi who feels to much, at a jarring intensity it lacerates his heart, and he doesn’t have enough time to patch it up when another stab wounds him. The dial of his heart is broken, most likely a manufacturing defect or a childhood trauma that left the volume all the way up.

There were so many blows that life threw at him, mercilessly, and the pain stretched long and unbearably sharp; thus, he learned to numb them off and protect himself. An insensitive lunatic, they say. And he couldn’t care less of what they think. It’s just a survival tactic.

That’s the Levi you fell in love with. The Levi who cares too much, who puts everyone else before him, who’ll never accept he’s good with kids and animals.

The tea lover and the clean freak.

The scared boy who used his strength to survive in a world that doesn’t set limits to cruelty.

You love the Levi who is too sensitive to the sunlight.

The Levi who cocoons under his covers and quilt in winter, and files complaints to the sweltering summer for coating him in a nasty clammy layer.

The Levi he hides under the hull.

The Levi who doesn’t carry the boulder of being Humanity’s strongest soldier.

I love you. You hover over behind him, humming a lullaby he’ll never hear. Your ghostly fingers linger along the line of his chin and nose, draw his eyebrows, the line of his lashes. You try to flick a lock of hair, but it doesn’t flinch. Shove your hand between the disheveled strands, but you go through his skull.

Creepy.

A sigh whizzes out.

But you’re a persistent one, and just like every morning, you drag your lips to his in hope that this time it will be different.

The prince waking up the princess from the enchantment. But he’s not a princes and you’re not a prince, and this is not a kids tale.

You watch his reaction closely. Your mouth remains a millimeter away from his; you close the gap and steel gray eyes snap open wide. You don’t move, you don’t retreat. You wait; he’s staring aghast, and for a second you believe today is the day the planets align, but thin black eyebrows sink into a scowl and a ‘tch’ traipse out of his mouth.

The legs of his chair screech on the wooden floor, and he hauls up on his feet, wiping off his drool with the back of his hand, still unaware of the shapeless black blot on his cheek.

You step back, shooting a brow upward, tilting your head to the side, and swiftly spin around. You watch him stomp to the shelf jammed with hefty tomes of leather-bound encyclopedias and biographies, their spines adorned with curving gold letters and neat patterns. He stands before it, stretches up, putting his weight on his toes, and rubs off a speck of dust with a cloth he drew out from his pocket.

“Levi” You groan his name, pulling off your hair, fighting the urge to kick his desk.

You can walk past through people and animals, but not through objects. Though, you can’t really touch them. You can push them, but never grab them, they’d slip from your fingers. Once, desperate to get his attention from the engrossing paperwork, you drop a ceramic mug from his desk. The quill fell from his hand, and stunned, he stared at the shards scattered on the floor, swarmed in his precious tea. The flickering light of the candle danced coarsely on his dilated pupils; he slammed down the mesh in his throat, and shook his head in disbelief, smacking the heel of his hand on his forehead.

It must’ve been the lack of sleep, he convinced himself.

Besides, your task is to confess your feelings, not to scare the shit out of him or render him believe he’s gone mad.

Another tch spills out of him when he spots the black smudge of ink stretching from the heel of his hand to his pinkie finger. He struts back to the table and his eyes flicker to the print he left on the paper.

“Fuck.”

He’ll need a copy of the report.

Why not to write a message or a letter? The quill slithers. However, about a month after this all started, when the headquarters still perched close to Shiganshina, you tried to trap the pen clamped between your hands. That day, Levi attended a meeting with Shadis, Erwin, Hange and the other squad leaders to discuss arrangements for the following mission. Levi was still a low rank soldier, yet a promising one who had already become a key piece in the game. The rest of the cadets were hectic with muscle wrenching training. You stayed in the boys' dorms, battling with defiance as the shadow twitted and scoffed on your back. With the quill teetering in your hands, you dipped it in the inkwell, but as soon as the nip scratched the paper, the ink was swallowed by the fiber. No matter how many times you tried, you could not write more than one stroke.

You couldn’t leave a message whittled on a tree bark or carved in soil; you couldn’t leave a print. Nothing.

Because you didn’t belong here.

You follow Levi to the adjacent room. A light blend of bergamot and lavender lingers in the air. The warm summer breeze caresses his face as the window swings open, particles of dust sway freely in the first morning glow. His bed is untouched, perfectly taut, no wrinkles etched in the sheets.

What a waste.

You rush to the bathroom door, and rest against the frame on your shoulder, arms folded over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

Your eyes are hooked to each of his movements. Opening his wardrobe door, he flicks his eyes along the row of light blue shirts and white pants. He takes his time as if he had a fan of options unfurled before him like a girl choosing a gown to a ball. He slides the hangers across the metal railing, one finger curled against his chin.

It’s not science, Levi. You roll the eyes.

And he emerges from the closet with a shirt and a pair of pants hooked on his arm, looking exactly at the clothes he fell asleep with. He hangs them on the backrest of his wing chair and sits on the edge of the bed, next to the nightstand. He pulls out the bottom drawer, delving into, and draws a pair of white briefs.

He thuds the drawer close with his leather-clad foot and heads to the bathroom, leaving the clean underwear perched too on the chair.

You stand there under the door frame, feet shoulder width apart, the back of your hands set on your hips. You slant forward, determination smeared across your eyes.

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, you shout, I LOVE YOU, LEVI.

Nothing.

Grumbling, you press the heels of your hands over your eyes and screak with hopelessness. You clout your temples, tears flooding in your eyes. Stupid, stupid, Y/N, why didn’t you knock on the door?

You look up and mumble, I love you, Levi. I love, you. Your voice breaks, and your chin trembles.

But nothing.

He ducks into the bathroom, walking past through you. The skirts of your dress billow as you turn around. You wipe your tears away, and you know what’s coming next. You are a bystander every morning, and his routine is almost unflappable.

You've seen him undress in front of you hundreds of times, and the desire never dissipates. A tingle crawls in your belly every time you look at him unseemly. The only perk of being invisible. An indecent show exclusive for you.

However, seeing and not touching is a curse.

His clothes pool at his feet and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip, relishing in the enthralling image. You close one eye and trace a svelte finger along the rebel locks of hair, pointing in every direction, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cupid bow, his chin, and jaw and Adam’s apple, his taut chest. You draw a circle around his tiny nipple. You continue downwards. The sun that pours through the small casement window catches the angles and planes of his perfectly chiseled torso, the V-cut abs, the ripped obliques, making him look like a statue carved by a master of the art. Your eyes meander along the line of hair marching down that disappears under his boxers. A dented line trails along his thick and flexed outer thighs.

His underwear is still in place, and you sulk. His booty is perky and round and bitable.

Distress surges through you, twisting your stomach. Like a gust of cool wind, it steps behind you. You and your sinful thoughts. Its voice is a ragged whisper that blisters your nape. Your knees go rubbery. He could’ve been yours.

The air is denser and torrid behind you.

You clear your throat and say without looking back, Rejection was a possibility too.

Levi spits out the toothpaste, and takes a sip of water from the cup, swishes, and spits again, and wipes his mouth on a washcloth.

Dumb and dumber, perfect for each other. Its last words waft away. You nibble on your lower lip and look over your shoulder, but it’s already gone. Momentary alleviation swaddles you again, your hands, little by little, stop trembling. You never know when it’s going to show up again. It may show up the next minute, or you may not hear from it for a month.

You watch Levi lean over the sink, closer to the mirror, furrowing his brows at the stain on his cheek. He lifts his chin, one hand stroking his jawline, tilting his face to the sides.

Levi, you shaved two days ago.

Yet you know he can’t stand stubbles. He first wipes off the black smudge. Then slathers shaving oil on the target area and picks up the dark wood. From the handle, he unfolds it. The stainless-steel blade catches the sunlight in a bright gleam that flashes on the mirror. He holds the razor to his jaw, and the blade smoothly glides in short strokes. Water trickles from the faucet and he rinses the blade. Again, the sharp edge scrapes. He cleanses it, lifts his chin, pulls it back, and it slides again.

Once done, he cleans the blade and folds the razor, and places the mahogany handle on the countertop. You slip behind him, but there’s only one person looking back from the mirror. He washes his face and swabs a towel gently, pats his clean-shaven cheeks and lolls his head, flicking his hair to the side, running his fingers over his undercut. It’s soft and he briefly notes it’s gotten long.

Not today.

Soon Hange will be banging on his door.

His fingers anchor to the hem of his briefs, pull them down, and he kicks them off. Your eyes beam with tinge of lust, your cheeks scorching red. How bad you want to smack that booty. You shake your head, ‘sinful thoughts, sinful thoughts, don’t forget you can still go to hell.’

Levi gets into the shower and sweeps the curtain. Water whooshes down, and you strut back to his room. Groaning, you fall back on his bed, running down your palms over your face.

Day seven hundred and fifty two, and you’ve made no progress. This is not going anywhere. Why don’t you help me? You ask the shadow, you know he is listening, but you don’t get an answer.

If you help me, both of us will benefit, you know?

Screw you.

It doesn’t have a name, he said, and you don’t want to give it one. It’d strengthen your bond, and that’s the last you wish.

Water stops running, and a minute later, Levi steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, lucky drops of water trickle down the ridges of his abs. You’re jealous of them because they can caress his skin. You roll onto your side, head prop on your elbow, your hair spilling down over the sheets.

Several times has the wind accidentally knocked the towel off.

He wipes his hair dry with another towel and tosses it away as he makes his way to the chair where his clothes are piled on.

He briskly dons his clothes, slip into his boots, and straps on. He fixes his cravat, and smooths down his hair. Picks up his towels and hangs them on the hooks in the bathroom.

Levi sighs and toddles to his office, closing the door to his room with a soft thud.

Seven bells break through the window, and while the last chime still resounds, three bangs drag him to the door.

Levi slips aside, and Hange steps inside, but they don’t show up alone. A night-black ball of hair is cradled in their arms, puffing up and down soundly.

“Good mor—”

“Get that thing out of here,” he scoffs as a sour grimace creeps across his face.

“Bu—”

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes, “I don’t want cat hair in my office.”

You witness the scene, and one green eye peeks open, drifting to you, filled with haughtiness.

Kick that cat out of here, Hange.

It casts a grim glance at you.

That’s not even a cat.

It purrs against their chest.

“Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

No.

You reply in unison, but of course they can’t hear you.

A scowl tugs your brows together, your fists are clenched by your sides, your jaw set forward, teeth gritting so tight they might crack. That’s not possible, though, but the pressure mars you.

Meow. It yawns and leaps off Hange, making them lurch back.

Its tail curls inward as it prances with indifference, swaying with arrogance. It stretches its back and curls at your feet. Levi’s eyes go blank, and heads to the bookshelf. Hange sinks into the couch and turns sideways to watch Levi standing on his toes, reaching out for a mug, their knee hitched up onto the sofa. They let out a chuckle, coaxing a death-sentence glower from the ravenette.

They lift their hands in the air, palms out as a sign of peace. “So, you also heard about the new tea supplies.”

“Yeah,” one corner of his lips quirks up.

Murmurs from the hallway percolate into his bureau. He left the door open, and more and more soldiers plod by down the corridor, heading for the training camp.

Levi owns a fine 13-piece tea set in white china that rests symmetrically on the top shelf. Six flare-shape cups graced with golden rims and handle rest on their saucers. The guava shaped teapot, adorned with a pattern of graciously painted spring flowers is settled in the middle. A little further to the right lies a mug that does not fit the set. And that’s the one Levi goes for.

Your eyes light up as you let out a sigh that coalesces hope and melancholy. A feeble, meek smile curves in your lips as Levi runs his thumb over the hand-painted dahlias. It was delicately crafted by nimble hands, something Levi deeply appreciates. His shoulders sag lightly, and he closes his eyes, sucking in a deep, cleansing breath.

“That’s a pretty one, Levi.”

Thanks Hange. It took me months, and tears of frustration to finish it before his birthday.

“It was a present,” he muses wistfully, raking his fingers through his hair, and pads toward Hange.

“From who?” Hange hauls onto their feet and slings an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “Don’t tell me it was from Y/N?” They wink and reel closer, waggling their eyebrows as Levi inches away, blushing and averting his eyes.

A pang of faith jabs within your chest, and you swallow the skein of despondency and misery, a drop of optimism fans out over your gaze. The cat’s ears twitch, and it gazes up, those penetrating green eyes meet yours and you can feel the dashes of scorn stabbing you, yet you won’t let him win this time. You cast a smug smile, then your eyes scoot to Levi and Hange as they strut together to the door.

“How do you know?” Levi stammers, and you raise a brow. His tapered fingers curl tight around the ceramic mug.

“Levi…” Hange sighs patting his back, their shoulders sag. “Sometimes it amazes me how thick you can be on certain issues.”

You rest against the desk, entwining your fingers and you bring your clasped hands to your chin, legs crossing and uncrossing. A deep red shade crawls across your cheeks. Today might be the day, the day you’ll break the curse. Come on, Hange, you whisper.

Levi halts in his tracks and flings Hange’s arm off him. His eyebrows plummet into a frown. “Explain yourself.”

Yes, Hange, explain yourself.

You watch with the suspense as when your team is about to score. You feel your hear thrumming recklessly, shivers dashing down your spine.

“Don't tell me you never noticed it.” The titan freak pinches the bridge of their nose, shaking their head, and drags out a long breath.

“Noticed what?” Levi bellows, creased lines marring his forehead and between his brows.

“The way she looked at you.” Hange exhales, a forlorn smile blooming in their lips. They squeezed Levi’s shoulder and mutters, “I’m sorry.”

One baby step.

Dumbfounded, Levi stares at them with wide open eyes that quail under the weight of their pensive gaze. His lips tremble too. He gulps, and lets his brows sink into a scowl. His heart kicks against his chest, and his face is mottled with redness, though Hange can’t tell whether it’s anger of embarrassment.

“Don’t talk trash.” He barks and storms out; Hange shrugs and follows him, closing the door behind them.

Your arms fall by your sides, your shoulders flump, and your head hangs forward as if it’s too heavy for your neck to support; your hair, jarred loose from the usual moorings, fling over your head. Your hands grip the wooden rim so hard color begins to drain from your fingers. Tears slide down your cheeks and fall, but they never touch the floor, they dissolve right before crashing on the polished wood, a chasm so thin and infinite that separates you from their world.

It’s not a cat anymore. A black shade stands next to you. A haughty smile spread across its somber face; its contemptuous laughter flays your skin. An arm swings around you, and you tip your head, your eyes crashing with the fake Levi’s. Smoke swishes in those disquieting pupils. Tears had stained your cheeks, minced your throat to a scalding soreness. You stare at him without rasping a word, trying to numb the pain away. It hurts too much.

Hopelessness infects you like a meat-eating bacterium. Time ticks, his time is ticking, and the fear of never seeing him again erodes every inch of your flesh.

This woe cut a hole right through you with a rusty knife.

Even dead, you’re not immune to pain.

You hurl him off.

“Oi! Y/N!”

You turn your head to him, swollen and glassy eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted, lips quavering. “Could you stop saying my name in his voice?” You plead in a wavering voice.

But he only snorts, a devilish smirk grazing those beautiful features. “It wouldn’t be fun, Y/N.” He grips your chin harshly, and you have no strength to fight him. “Love is your curse, sweetheart. Come with me. We´ll have each other for eternity.”

You drown a roaring yawn in the palm of your hand and wipe away the tear peeking at the corner of your eye. Disdain and disappointment suffuse the crowds’ faces. A cloud of pessimism and distrust hover over the streets of Shiganshina. The great bell chimes, and the chains rattle as the door to the outer world rises. Holding the reins in the curve between your thumbs and forefingers, you pat your face to wake you up. You suck in a long breath to steady the drumming beats of your heart. Even though it’s not your first expedition, apprehension fizzes through your veins, increasing the adrenaline in your system.

Shadis orders advance. Amid whistles and jeers, and the clopping of the hooves, you pass through the main gate, and the formation soon deploys.

No one had forecasted the ashy gray clouds rolling from the east.

Shouts ensnare with cries, and you can’t remember at what moment you fell from the horse. It must have slipped in the mud. Pain exploded in your face as you smacked against the ground. Splattered blood dappled your uniform, though you didn’t know if it belonged to your comrades or if it was your own. Your fingers burned, yet you managed to drag battered body to under a tree.

You slump against the trunk and a thick fog blurs your vision, and through the daze you glimpse bodies being tossed away by a savage giant. Wires buzz and click and snap. Wails of agony seem so distant. A short film in sepia flicker before your eyes, the story of your life. The door unfolds in front of you, and you try to lift your hand and rap your knuckles against the oak wood, like that day. That time, what got on your way was fear, the fear of rejection, the fear of not being good enough; now, what’s stopping you from knocking is life slipping away through your fingers like a river slithering through the rocks.

You can’t coax the earth to spin in reverse, you can’t go back in time. And now rue dashes through you like a vine of thistles scraping your chest. The sinners by omission are also reprimanded, and you learn that in the harshest way as Charon approaches, but panic surges through you because you don’t have a coin for the ferryman. Perhaps another divinity that doesn’t charge for its services will take pity on your soul.

Numbness starts to spread though your limbs. Crimson sprouts from your left thigh and your right side, and there’s a splinter too following the line of your collarbone. Little by little, the tingle from your hands and feet recedes as if they’re detaching from you.

Your breath shallows, and you shudder in pain, hissing. The affliction branches across your leg and torso and shoulder like lightning, red smears over your uniform. Your fumbling hands are not strong enough to clutch the wounds and deter the bleeding. The stains feel warm, and you fight to not close your eyes. But your eyelids feel leaden with weariness.

Through the haze, covered in soil and blood, your fingernails look a faint blue. Your body feels heavy, and it’s anchored to the ground as if made of solid rock, as if your eyes had mingled with Medusa’s.

You’re perspiring in delirium. Scrunching up your face, you bite your bottom lip until the taste of iron stings your mouth. Pain eases pain, you tell yourself. Your arms fall by your sides, the bark feels rough against your back, and a meek smile tugs at your lips. At least you’re feeling something, that means, you’re still tied up to this world. Maybe, maybe, he’ll come back on time.

You cry tears you hadn’t realized you had left. You’re ladling them out from the reserve, from the last wave of devastation. Tears that endorse the truth you’re still reluctant to accept.

You’re tired as though you’re swimming in a lake of molasses, desperately fluttering, but it keeps pulling you down.

An invisible wire of fear seizes your chest, and you cling to your last breath, waiting for him.

The chirp of the grasshoppers and the rustling of the leaves and branches fade away. The world slowly shuts down, and you gaze up, close your eyes and pray for any deity to have mercy on you.

So, this is the end?

Alone, sweaty, muddy.

Frightened, beaten, impotent.

And then, you see Levi.

The cause of your bliss and frustration. Of your songs and reticence.

Levi, Levi, Levi.

With your last breath you repeat his name, his name that slips from your lips like honey.

Y/N who was always late for any important event in her life but arrives early to her own death.

It’s alright.

You’re at peace.

You’re not afraid.

You’re ready.

And those frames, those moments that could’ve been, but will never be project like a motion picture before your eyes.

You and Levi, napping under the sun, belly’s brimming with cheese and wine and fruits.

You stroking Levi’s hair as he reads aloud for the two a verse that binds you together.

Levi, pressing you down into the bed, fingers intertwined, hearts beating wild, and breaths coming out in muffled pants, your name dribbling out of his mouth, echoing in your hair.

You and Levi in the kitchen, your face covered in wheat flour as you knead the bread dough, and Levi next to you whipping the heavy cream until it turns to butter

You, chasing him to cup his face in your hands, while the place suffuses with the rich smell of freshly baking bread.

You and Levi, and two kids with black hair and deep gray eyes running around in a cottage at the outskirts of the city, making a mess and driving you crazy.

You, aging by his side.

A tear slides down your face. Your eyes are burdensome with drowsiness.

It’s not alright.

And you’re not at peace. Why couldn’t you open the door?

And you’re scared. You’re frightened to die out here alone. It should be in his arms, and not in mud.

You’re not ready. You have to tell him, he needs to know.

Please, please, please, if anyone is listening, please, give me another chance.

But the heartbeats you have left are not enough.

“So, I did this to myself, didn’t I?”

“it was just a coincidence.” Its fingers drum on its sternum. “Pleading or not, you wouldn’t fend off this.”

The earth has revolved around the sun three times already. The colossus titan, the armored titan and the female titan had mingled with the cadets of the 104th. Annie Leonhart is encased in her indestructible crystal, kept somewhere underground by the military police.

Now the survey corps are set to retake wall Maria and scavenge the truth from Eren’s basement. Eren, the boy who can transform into a titan and fights along humanity.

You and it are laying on the meadow in the shade of an oak tree. It is facing the sky as you toy with a curl of hair, your eyes hooked on the lock laced around your finger.

“Why? Why did you choose him?” For the first time, you sense a hue of qualm lacing its abrading voice.

“You talk as though we get to choose love.” You close your eyes, yielding to the lulling murmur of the breeze. You can hear it, yet you can’t feel it caressing your skin. “Love is a lightning bolt that breaks your bones and leaves you staked in the middle of the yard.”

“It sounds painful.” He notes in that husky voice that stirs your senses. “Why humans insist on finding love, if it hurts them?”

“You’re not human; thus, you’ll never understand.” You slip an arm beneath your head. “Maybe we’re are masochists that jump blindly into the abysm of this pleasant torture. It makes your heart beat wildly, thrashing within your ribs, threatening to breach your chest and jump out every time you see that person. Your cheeks get warm and red, and your mouth disconnects from your brain, and you end up spilling nonsense and embarrassing yourself.” Your lips curved into a meek smile. “And their voice makes your knees weak, and a single glance unleashes a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and their image live in your head, and you can’t kick them out. Love makes you simper like and idiot. And I don’t think there’s a more beautiful feeling.”

The cheap copy of Levi hoists onto his elbows and his eyes glide along your frame, frowning. “Humans are weird species. I would never stoop to be like a mere mortal.” He sticks out its tongue in disgust. “Why do you insist so much in a love that won’t be?”

You chuckle. “It must be lonely to be you. You’ve met many people in the way, yet you can’t cultivate bonds. So many names and faces and no one will ever know yours, no one will never remember you.”

His nostrils flare with rage. “You know it’s not fun anymore, you’d failed a thousand times and you’ll keep failing. You should surrender now.”

“No. I won’t give up. If he knows the feelings I hoarded for him, I’ll go to paradise and I’ll meet him there eventually.”

“How can you be so certain he won’t go straight to the underworld?” he nudges.

“I don’t think there’s a most caring soul in this world.” You nibble on your lip, and your eyes flit open. “He's done things he's not proud of, but in this world, you have to choose between eat and get eaten.”

You scratch and itch on your nose and close your eyes again.

He rolls over and curls against you, draping an arm around you, and pulls you closer. Straight black hair like silk, thin black eyebrows, fair skin; his lips, like the rest of him feel like ice against your skin. His kisses trail along your jawline, sneaking down to your neck, and his caresses blister your skin as though he was clasping a collar of hot stones around you.

“You know you can come with me.” He mutters in that sultry voice that cajoles your brain cells to go on strike.

“I’ve followed him close all these years. I can be the perfect Levi if you want me to.” His hands fondle your upper arms. Your teeth sink into your lips. Your hands clamp at your skirts.

“Let it out, say the name.” You feel his lips forming a grin against your cheek.

It’s playing with you, it’s tempting you, but you’re not falling in the trap.

No.

One leg swings over you, and now he’s on top. “Look at me.” He tilts your chin up with a finger, but your eyes are clamped shut, so tight you see color spirals behind your lids.

You won’t succumb to its trickery.

But you squirm when you feel something hard straining on your lower belly, and a dreadful sardonic chortle spews from him.

Damn, you didn’t know it could do that.

“I can give you what you want.”

You shake your head. “You told me once you couldn’t feel pleasure. Why are you doing this?” You sniff.

His knuckles skim over your cheek. “I take pleasure in watching you struggle with yourself. You’re a masterpiece.” His fingers dig in your cheeks, and he shakes your head boorishly.

Fuck, the pressure feels good, but no. You won’t lose in this game.

“If his heart still beats, I have time. And there is only one Levi.” You push him off and it takes his original shady form, crow-black with tarnished edges. It’s tittering wryly, and groaning, you stand, smoothing down your dress. You start striding away, without looking back.

“Where are you going?”

You don’t need to reply, it knows exactly where you’re heading, and it follows your steps.

The sun slants from the west. Synchronized chains clatter and shrill, spooling and unreeling in the sheaves on both sides of the walls; the elevators crammed with soldiers and horses and supplies. You spot Levi, and your stomach churns and flips and twist as if someone or something was grappling your guts. ‘That’s right. The operation might fail…’ His words rumble in your head, again and again, and your eyes jump over the faces you can’t put a name on. Too many unexperienced soldiers stand atop the wall. A bleak drop of sweat dribbles down your spine, and your legs begin to tremble. A lump made of shards of glass lacerates your throat as you gulp.

Well, well. A chaotic squall erupts behind you, the air thickens around you. Citizens have gathered up to cheer and buoy the Survey Corps before departing. The send-off they always deserved. After all, The S.C saved the city.

“Hange!!!!”

Your head cranes toward the voice source. Flegel Reeves, the chubby man with freckle-dappled face shouts from a tower encouraging the throng. Soon more people join him.

Your heart jerks and clogs your throat.

You can’t die, Levi. Not, yet, no.

You wish you could follow him, but you’re shackled to the messenger, and you can't walk away from it. You’ve tried, but as soon as you cross the threshold, you’re brought back to it.

Look at you, you look like a soldier's girlfriend watching the train pull away. It mocks, yet you don’t know what a train is. And you don’t ask.

I still have so many lives to steal from your lips. Please come, back.

Always lurking, always watching from the distance. Like a ghost. You know his schedules by heart, you know his favorite brand of tea, you know where he buys his brooms and bleach, and who fashions his shirts and pants tailored to his needs. You know he trains alone in the grounds at dusk and takes a shower after. You know he doesn’t like visiting Hange’s lab because it doesn’t meet his hygiene standards; there are always papers and books scattered around, and sometimes he’s spotted dust monsters in the corners of the ceiling. Land that strays from his domains.

You know how mold can ruin his day, as well as a too-long steeped tea. Three minutes is all you need.

And lavender lingers from his clothes encroaching his luring scent of bergamot and musk.

The sun yawns sluggishly from west, putting his nightcap on, tucking under the covers to give way to the full moon.

The moon and the sun are lovers who, despite the distance, know they have each other, and despite their differences, when they come together they form a perfect eclipse.

A shy smile grazes your flustered face.

Blades swish in the air, wires drone, gas fizzes; Levi moves with great dexterity and speed it’s hard to keep your eyes on him. Chips of bark fall from where the hooks grapple and retract.

He lands and wipes off the beads of sweat from his forehead. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and praying that your heartbeat doesn't echo through the forest. Today you’ll tell him. You’ve practiced a hundred of times before the mirror and you’re ready. You command your legs to move forward, but they don’t respond. They’d become jelly.

Like every time, the unreasonable fear stings your hands and feet, as if they were pricking you under your nails with needles. Fear of rejection, fear that your feelings will not be reciprocated. Fear that he'll think you're a fool.

“Boo!”

You scramble back, clinging to a tree as not to fall on your bumps. You survive the heart attack and take a deep breath, running your fingers through your hair.

“Hange!” You blurt their name as they slither to your side, resting their elbow on your shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid.” They encourage you, gripping your wrist with one hand to quell your nerves.

“I’m just leaving.” Your voice falters.

They sigh, throwing their head forward, then turns their face to you. “You’re helpless.”

“But…” You slump, running a hand down your face. “Do you think I’m good enough?”

“What I or others think shouldn’t matter to you. But, in my humble opinion, I think you can give Levi the fairy tales he needs in his life.”

You glance to the ground, following the leaf-laden ants back to their burrows. Your face burns in lava red. “Whenever I’m standing in front of him, my brain stops working. I can’t drag a word out of my mouth. I’m afraid he thinks I’m stupid.”

“I don’t think he thinks you’re stupid.” They shake their head, a feeble smile creeping across their lips.

You purse your lips into a thin line.

They pat your shoulder. “I hope you’ll soon find the courage to tell him.”

And the chasm between summer and winter narrows in the blink of an eye. The naked tree branches rake the stony walls with an eerie screech. The whistling wind bangs at the doors and windows, and a white mantle stretches over the training grounds and the orchard. The 25th is circled in red on your calendar. You sign the card and put the quill on the holder. You’ve spent all fall working on Levi’s present. Working the clay and shaping it on the wheel was the easiest part of the process, it was therapeutic, to feel the moist, heavy soil slipping in your hands and fingers. Painting the dahlias, on the other hand, brought you to tears, challenging your resilience. At the end, all the hard work paid off, and you couldn’t be more content and confident with the result.

You wrap it up in burgundy tissue paper and tie a golden ribbon at the top, curling the edges with a blade. Then slip the card in the envelope. The chair squeaks and you stand up, wrapping the scarf around your neck. Happy birthday, Levi. You repeat in your head as you pad toward the library. One of the places where Levi spends his sleepless nights and mornings alone. The boys’ quarters are obnoxiously loud for him. And filthy.

Happy birthday, Levi. It’s that simple Y/N, you can’t fuck it up.

The door is ajar, and you push it open.

He lies along the couch, ankles crossed over the armrest, book flapped open on his chest. He puts the bookmark and sets the hefty book on the coffee table. “Hi.” He spews, sliding up into a sitting position, and takes a glimpse of the wrapped up object in your arms. You don’t see his blush taking over his pallor because you’re struggling to steady the whops of your heart.

“Good morning, Levi.” You avert the eyes, suck on your bottom lip before continuing. Levi heaps on his feet and pads to you, and him so close to you is causing your brain cells to snap. “I…uh… I’m just…” you shake your head, then gaze up, and your eyes crash with his. “Happy birthday.” You smile, dimple at full display. Feeling giddy and faint, you hand him the present, and he stares at it, squinting, head tilted to the side. “It’s not a time bomb, I swear.” You giggle and a flush of embarrassment dashes to his ears. He grabs it and a stammered thanks flees from him.

You both blame the cold for painting your cheeks pink, both oblivious to each other’s feelings.

“Well, uh…” Your eyes scoot around as your finger scratches your temple, your cheeks scalding red. “I hope you like it.”

“May I unwrap it?” His words stumble, and he holds captive his lower lip between his teeth, fighting the urge to slap himself.

“Sure, I mean, it’s yours, you can do whatever you want.”

He plops on the couch, the present sprawled on his lap, and his deft fingers move with such patience and daintiness as not to rip off the paper. So carefully as if he was actually deactivating a bomb.

“Take a seat.” He mutters without taking his eyes off his task.

You nod and comply, sitting at the other end of the sofa, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. Levi wears a cozy dark-green wool sweater, and a knitted white cap.

The delicate paper opens like a sunflower under the grace of the sunlight. He lifts the mug at his eye level, his fingers running over the hand-painted flowers, so detailed it seems like the work of an expert. He’s been at every ceramics shop and ateliers in town, and he’s never seen this design. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs for himself. Then drifts his eyes to you. “You didn’t have to.”

A chuckle snaps from you. “Why not? It’s a special day, you deserve something special.” You simper timidly, a foot shuffling against the floor.

“It must’ve been a special edition.”

“Kinda. It’s a Y/N’s edition.”

Levi lolls his head lightly to the side.

“I crafted it myself.”

He looks back to the mug now resting on the table next to the book. “You’re talented,” he utters and turns his face to you, and your mouth falls open in bewilderment.

“What?” he raises a brow, his features still gilded with a smile.

Your soft giggles fondle him as the corners of your lips curve up into a dazzling smile. “You should smile more often.”

“Do you think so?” One eyebrow draws an arc.

“Yeah.”

You scramble up, yanking off the sofa, and begin to stalk to the door.

“Wait.”

You spin around on your heels, tipping your head to the side. Expecting. Your heart thudding loud and clear.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. And the thrill falters.

A drop of disillusionment spreads across your chest. You shove your hand in your pocket, crumpling the letter.

“You’re a mystery.” You trail.

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turn around, your boots thumping on the creaking wood. You look over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

Your clothes stick to your skin in sweat, and the breeze that seeps through the corridor windows doesn’t bring respite, it strikes you like a heat wave, as if you were standing before a blazing hearth.

Your heartbeats muffle the thudding of your boots, rumbling in your ears like the drums of a marching band.

Your eyes skim the door to the boys’ room. Your knuckles rap and Damian, a cadet that graduated with you in the training Corps, pokes his head through the wedge. “What’s up, Y/N?” he doesn’t bother to stifle his yawn.

“Where’s Levi?”

He shrugs, “Haven’t seen him today. Did you check in the Library?”

“That was my last stop.”

“What about the kitchen? Must be enrolled in his tea ritual right now.”

Why didn’t it cross your mind before? You were that engrossed practicing in front of the mirror.

You shoot him a smile and thank him before swiftly swiveling back on your feet. You trot to the kitchen, wiping off the beads of sweat streaming down your temple. you go down the stairs two steps at a time and once you veer around the corner, you slow down, threading a hand in your hair. The clattering of cutlery and ceramic reaches you in the hallway. The whistle of the kettle breaches in the air.

And again, your heart gallops in your chest when you hear a ‘tch’. You raise your hand, and the pads of your fingers brush over the door veins. Your breath comes out in a staggered gust of air as you muster the courage you need to knock.

But you can’t. That shrilly voice breaks into your head, reminding you that you’re not good enough. That Levi would never fixate his eyes in a silly girl like you. The voice that hampers your plans and dreams, the voice that makes you feel small and vulnerable. The voice that anchors you to your comfort zone.

You’re not good enough.

And you believe it.

Your hands and forehead rest on the door as tears swell in your eyes, staining your face and stinging your mouth with salt.

Maybe, after the expedition.

III

“I’m just wondering, why does it take a life ending to learn how to cherish every opportunity? Why must we wait until we run out of time to muster the courage to do the things we never did when we had plenty of time?” You slouch on the bench.

“Fear. Fear of what others might think or say, fear of letting them down, fear of being laughed at, fear to risk and lose. Fear is a survival mechanism, but poorly managed can hale you away from the joy and bliss.” It flumps on the bench next to you and hunches forward, resting its arms on the knees. “when people looks at Death straight in the eye, they don’t regret what they did, they mourn over the things they didn’t do. I’ve seen the despair and disappointment in thousands of pleading eyes.”

“What’s in heaven? What’s paradise like?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never crossed the gates. Maybe awaits what you cherish the most.” It turns its face to you. “What’s that you yearn for?”

It knows the answer, but it wants to hear it from you, it wants your voice to stab his chest.

“I want a life with him.”

“I see.”

The not real Levi stands and offers you a hand. “Let’s take a walk. I know you like the market.”

You take it. You meander around, hand in hand. After all, he is the only one you can feel in your skin. And you crave touch. You loath yourself for yielding, but it’s been a long time since you felt the warmth of another flesh.

He is pricking cold, but it’s something palpable.

Nine bells burst through, entangling with the bustle of people. Trost main square stirs with the motions of the Sunday Farmer’s market. Rows of white, flitting awnings stretch from road to road. The stalls at the front are colored I’m hues of yellows, orange, purple and red with season fruits and vegetables, pumpkins, grapes, apples, figs, squash and carrots. Then comes the rows of dairy and meat, piled with cheese and milk and butter and eggs, and others with cured ham trussed with herbs.

A jumble of piquant smells wafts in the air as Levi weaves through the throng near the booths of herbs and spices, and his gaze lights up when he spots Mrs. Warner’s stall.

“Captain Levi, hey.”

“Hey.” He waits for her to pack his weekly order. She knows it already by heart.

Passersby smile and wave at Levi, older men approach and pat his back. They thank him for having fought bravely, for retaking wall Maria and the lands they’d lost to the titans.

Mrs. Warner notices his uneasiness and let’s out a faint chuckle. “We’re all proud of you.”

“Good morning, Granny.” A ten-year-old boy chimes, stopping in front of the old woman’s stand. Wrinkles of years creep at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey, Robbie.”

Robbie? Stunned, you look at them with popped open eyes. My Robbie? Your glassy eyes prick with unshed tears. My little Robbie is not so little anymore. You sniffle. You wish you could run and hug him. He was five the last time I kissed his cheeks.

Levi’s double strokes your upper arm and you loll your head on his shoulder.

“Who are you?” the boy blatantly asks the ravenette.

“Hey, Robbie, show some respect.” Mrs. Warner scoffs. “This is captain Levi from the Scouting Legion.”

Chocolate brown eyes sink into a frown, flickering around as if he’s trying to pull an old memory out of his head.

“The Levi, just Levi, from the Scouting Legion?” He croaks.

You face palm.

Back then Levi wasn’t Captain.

Levi snorts and ruffles the boys chestnut brown curls.

The woman rolls her eyes as she finishes packing both orders. Robbie is there for his monthly supply of cinnamon. His sister used to bake cookies for him when he was little, but she took the recipe with her, and he spends his Sundays trying to hit the bulls-eye.

“I think I’m close. I’ll try with less butter and more sugar this time.” He cranes his head toward the lady.

Nope Robbie, more butter than sugar.

“My sister was a huge fangirl of you.” The brash boy addresses to Levi again, and your face ignites. He fumbles in his jute bag for an apple, rubs it in his shirt and munches on it. He swallows. “She never stopped talking about you. You were her topic of conversation every time she got home. It was sickening.”

He takes another bite, apple juice drips over his arm and, he licks it.

Mrs. Warner bites the inside of her cheek to muffle her laugh.

Can I strangle him? You nudge your companion on the side.

Isn’t he doing what you were supposed to do? You should’ve learned something from him.

I guess you’re right. But it doesn’t make it less embarrassing.

“She wrote you a cheesy letter, too. I found it in the bin.”

“Is that so?” Levi draws his handkerchief and curls two fingers, asking Robbie to stretch out his arm, and rubs away the fruity stains.

“Uh-huh. She named her teddy bear Levi and couldn’t sleep without it.”

Levi snorts, jabbing his kerchief back into his pocket.

Your cheeks are flaring.

You were so pathetic.

Shut up!

A thin black brow arches, amusement slathers Levi’s face.

“Cinnamon for Robbie L/N and black tea leaves for Captain Levi.” The old woman sets the paper bags on the countertop. Robbie shoves his in the bag slung on his shoulder.

“L/N?” Levi’s eyes widen, shaking in realization.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, sucking out the juice from the apple core.

“Y/N L/N was your sister?”

“mmm-hmmm.” He tosses the core into the trash bin. “See you around Levi, just Levi. Bye old Granny.”

“I’m not that old, Robbie.” She pats his head, and he stalks away.

Levi grabs his bag, coins clank as he jams his change in his pocket, thanks Mrs. Warner, and goes after the boy.

You trudge behind.

“Oi, brat.”

The brunette boy stops and swirls around, narrowing his eyes, tilting his head down without breaking eye contact. “The name’s Robbie.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and takes in a sharp breath.

“Robbie.” Levi sighs. “Could you show me the letter?”

"Why?" Robbie ponders. “Only if you promise to give it back.” He blushes. “I don’t have too many things with my sister’s handwriting.”

Levi’s eyes soften. “I’ll read it at your porch.”

The front door to your house swings open and Robbie and Levi step in, with you sneaking behind before the door shuts.

“Do your parents let you bring strangers when you’re home alone?”

“You’re not stranger within the walls.” Robbie toes of his shoes off. “They’ll be back soon, they’re visiting an aunt.”

The hearth is stoking, and Robbie rushes to the kitchen, leaving the bag perched on the countertop, two apples rolling out.

He saunters back to the entryway and grabs Levi’s hands and leads him upstairs. The creaking of the steps echo in the house.

Nothing has changed.

It still smells like oak and caramel. The door to your room is closed at the end of the corridor, and you decide to let it go, a wistful simper kisses your lips.

Send me a smoke signal when you’re done. He kisses your temple and vanishes in the air.

It seems as a hurricane struck in Robbie’s room. The covers of his bed are wrapped up at the edge, Levi makes his way through the rumpled clothes and balled up socks scattered on the floor. Pens and crayons and notebooks spilled on his desk.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He says, ignoring Levi’s scrunched up face. The raven haired drags the chair from the desk, dusts it off and takes a seat.

Robbie fetches something from the corkboard.

“Here.” Levi pries the letter from Robbie’s hand.

You flump on Robbie’s bed.

“I’ll be downstairs, don’t touch anything.” The boy squints and wanes away.

Levi rakes his hair and sighs, hunching forward. He slips the letter from the envelope and unfolds it.

You have a pretty handwriting.

You gaze down as his eyes linger over every word.

Heat creeps from your cheeks to the tip of your ears.

… I love watching you and I make you mine by looking at you from afar. I love the tiny moles in your neck, forming your own Orion’s belt, and the dimple in your cheek when you smile. I wish you could show it more often…

…If they ask me what I see in you, I’d smile and lower my head, and wouldn’t reply, because I wouldn’t want them to fall in love with you too…

Meeting you was the most beautiful coincidence.

…I love you, I love you, I love you. You wove a nest in my heart to make sure I’ll never kick you out.

I’ll burn this letter before it reaches your hands, but if by a little chance it survives the flames, I just want you to know I’ll love you forever.

Y/N.

Tears pamper his face as he holds the letter against his chest. His chin trembles, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle his sobs and whimpers.

You yield to the weeping too, wishing you could curl against him, you could hug him, hold his hand, and douse him in kisses.

He opens the trunk of old memories that pull him back to that day, in the library.

A nothing that wrote a different end to your story. Of only you knew what has masked behind that word.

So many things were jumbled in his head, as he delved through for the right words, but they clogged his throat, and a ‘nothing’ was everything he could pull out.

“I wanted you to stay that morning.” He mewls amid sobs and sniffs. He feels a pang in his chest, a dagger cutting though, tearing out his heart to grind it with shards of broken glass. “When I found you, it was too late.” He breaths.

Your teary eyes soften, filled with an inner glow. Levi. You muse his name once again. Your heart flutters and it feels full, complete.

He went back for you.

“You’re a mystery, Levi.” You said his name laced with sugar. You always did.

He snorted, steel gray eyes tangling with yours. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turned around, his gaze hooked on your back as you walk away. You stop before crossing the threshold and looked back over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

“How so?”

“You’re a mystery I want to solve. I’ll find out what you hide.”

“You might be disappointed to see what’s inside.”

“We may both be surprised.” You smirked and strutted out.

You lay on the bed, and tugged by an impulse, he curls in too. You’re facing each other, yet he can’t see you, he can’t hear you, and you can’t feel him.

Your lips search for his.

Nothing.

You can’t feel his breath, nor his lips brushing yours, nor the warm of his cheek in your palm.

I’d like to sweep away those tears my love. You whisper. Where will you be? Where will we be from now on? Two dots in the unfathomable universe, so far or so close, two dots that draw asymptotes, that yank closer to each other, but never meet. Separated by an infinitesimal distance.

I love you. Now and always.

You close your eyes, and when you open them again, the golden gates that stretch and skim beyond the clouds unfasten. It’s bright, but not blinding. The heaviness in your chest falters, and you finally feel at peace. All the anguish, anger and frustration had drained away.

Before you take a step forward, you crane back and wave a hand to the messenger, who doffs off its hat. A feeble smile peeks on its lips.

It’s time to go back to the solitary life, hoping that you’ll never forget it.

♾️

It’s pelting and the sturdy drops batter on your shoulders and head. You should’ve listened to your roommate and shoved the umbrella in your tote bag.

The battery of your phone had died out leaving you stranded in a city you hardly know. It’s terrifying how dependent we are on technology. You can’t get a Uber ride to go home, nor plan your trip on Moovit. It’s rush hour, and people are weaving through the throng desperate to get home. Crashing umbrellas, puddles splashing, frantic car horns, the hustle and bustle and the blinding lights. The big city is a hellish nightmare, a thrilling one, and even though you miss your life in your small town, this is where you belong now.

You were accepted in the School of Art and Design.

You hunch, holding your bag pressed against your chest to protect your iPad from the pouring rain.

As you turn around the corner, you duck into the first establishment with the open sign flashing in green neon, not sure what to expect when you walk into Herby Twist.

There are a handful of tea enthusiasts and others in your situation, sheltering from the deluge. You stand in line admiring the place. It’s bedecked in a modern manly garage style. Corrugated, stained metal on the walls, shiny red shelves and simple concrete floor.

The aromas of matcha and chai mingles with the citrus smells of lime and orange. The place stirs up with the weaves of conversations and the pattering raindrops scraping the roof.

When there’s only one person before you, you glance at the blackboard menu hanging above the counter.

You squint as your eyes flicker over the capitalized chalked letters. In the city, they insist on giving strange names to common things.

“Welcome to Herby Twist. What can I get you?” You jerk at the luscious raspy voice and look down, entwining your gaze with his dull, steel-gray eyes. Suddenly, your pulse begins to rise wildly. Your legs wobble, afraid your knees might buckle. You look like you were lick by a horse, your hair wet and stuck to your shoulders as well as your shirt. And he’s impossibly hot, and no, your not exaggerating. His smooth black hair is slick back, a couple of rebel strands fall over his forehead, flicking with each of his movements.

Lean, broad shoulders, narrow waist; his black t-shirt gives you a hint of what’s under, ridged muscles, ripping collarbones, you can get a glimpse of the tattoo on his left shoulder, shrouded by the sleeve.

“So…” His voice yanks you out from your reverie.

“I’ll have…uh…” you look up to the menu, unable to decipher the names as your fingers fiddle with your bracelet. Your gaze crashes with his. “I’ll have your favorite.”

“I hope you like plain black tea.” He places your order in the screen. “Will there be anything else?” His gaze flicks to you.

You shake your head.

“What’s your name?”

You swallow the lump and say, “Y/N.”

Without moving his head, his eyes dart to you, and he smirks. He sleeves on the cup, uncaps the sharpie and scrawls your name on the side.

Your credit card beeps in the terminal and your bill is printed out. He tears it off and hands it to you along with the National Bank Card. “You can wait over there for your order.” He nudges his chin to the side. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” You meekly nod, tucking a lock of clammy hair behind your ear, and slip to the pick-up-your-order-here counter.

Your fingers tap rhythmically as you wait, your eyes tracing and retracing over his back and shoulders as you bite your bottom lip. Your heart is a loud bass in your chest. You can’t decipher what it is, like a force of attraction you can’t fight back, driving you to keep your eyes on him. He turns around and you look away, your cheeks sizzling with a blush. He caps your drink and puts the cup on the concrete countertop. Your fingers stop drumming.

“Y/N.”

You search his gaze and find it.

You like the way your name dribbles from his lips. Sensuous, velvety and scrappy in the hot way. The flicker of a smile ghosts over his lips.

“Thanks.”

You grab the cup and slide onto a booth in the furthest corner. You twist the thick carboard sleeve, snort and shake your head, simpering. His name and number jotted down in his scrawling. You look in his direction, and as he takes the order from the next in line, gray eyes lock with yours, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #nela writes #levi ackerman oc #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you

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littlerequiem · 1 day

Text

— midnight ventures ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader (18+ MDNI)

You shouldn’t have looked and he shouldn’t have been there. But Fate can have a funny sense of humor. The punchline that night? Stumbling onto your naked Captain in a hot spring… and doing something about it.

content — Rated E - Canon universe, Snowed-in, Winter, Hot Springs, Power Dynamics, Smut, Orgasm Delay, Oral (f. receiving), Authority Kink, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Light dom/sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Levi (wc: 11.7k).

Thanks to my BETA @stellar-smth. Written for @sixpennydame following this prompt: "I can't get enough of you."

Crossposted on AO3.

The mountain is a lonely, cruelly cold place.

Up here, everything is covered by planes of white, endless valleys rolling and coming. Icicles cling onto winding branches, while roots are drowned in bitter cold. Even nature seems to be at a complete standstill here.

Getting lost here would be ill-advised.

And yet, here you are, stranded, with the last person you ever expected to be with.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

“That was our last one, sir,” you say as you lower the flare gun, securing it to the harness strapped to your wool jacket. Gray smoke, usually reserved to warn of the presence of abnormals, now towers above you. It was a last hope to signal someone to your location and unfortunately, no answer has come.

You are, in every sense of the word, lost.

"You grew up around here, didn't you?" comes Levi's voice, that his gravelly and magnetic tone that always makes you instantly zero-in on him. "Any of this look familiar?”

You meet his impassive stare, and you try to ignore the familiar flutters forming in the pit of your stomach.

“I did. But I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recognize these parts,” you answer evenly, glancing at the footprints in the snow. “Everything looks the same to me.”

“I see.”

You rub your hands over your covered arms, trying to create your own means of warmth. "My father used to say these mountains were a death trap come winter. I suppose there was some truth to his words.”

“A death trap.” Levi clicks his tongue. “A novelty in our lives, I’m sure.”

Your chuckle beneath your breath.

Somewhere to the north of here is a military outpost, the destination of your supply round. Unfortunately, as things stand now, you won't reach it on time. Perhaps if you had ODM gear or horses, you might have already reached it. But winter in the mountains renders both useless: the hooks don't secure properly because of the ice, and horses aren't trained to navigate such terrains.

Hence, you are doing everything by foot.

“It's going to be dark soon,” Levi points out in a monotone voice, as if this situation wasn’t a matter of life-and-death.

You stare at the darkening clouds over the horizon. "Yeah."

Levi kicks some snow with his boot, white particles clouding the air. “Let’s head back down, I saw a cabin on our way up.”

“Yes, sir.”

With his directives now laid out, you begin the walk down. Levi sets the pace, keeping a diligent speed that ensures your bodies stay warm and your minds stay sharp. For a while, that’s all there is to it. Nothing but the crunching of footsteps in snow and the wind howling across white nothing.

The silence gives you a moment to yourself, one where you're able to take in your surroundings, including the sight of your Captain next to you.

Like you, Levi’s appearance is marked by the cold. His eyes, red-rimmed; eyelashes, glistening white; his cheeks, flushed with a rosy hue; his hair, flowing and ebbing midnight.

It suits him, this look. All dressed in white, he looks beautiful.

Not exactly a surprise, you suppose. Your Captain could wear a rag and still look good.

It’s an objective, albeit unfortunate, truth. Your Captain is beautiful, magnetic, striking… and you happen to have a big, fat crush on him.

It’s not like it's a secret. You think everyone in the Corps knows at this point. The brats from the 104th love to tease you about it. So does Commander Hange, for that matter—somehow, you think it is no coincidence the two of you ended up paired for this mission.

Meddlers, they all are.

"Oi, focus on the road," Levi grumbles.

Your cheeks warm, feeling like your Captain caught you red handed with your daydreams, even if you know that, objectively speaking, there's no way he did (Levi is many things, but a mind reader isn't one of them. Thank the Walls for that.)

Despite knowing that, you can't help but stammer, "S-sir?"

"You're not focused on the road. You're going to slip and hurt yourself."

And he's right, of course. It is slippery. Dangerous, even.

But how exactly does your Captain even know you aren't focused on the path? He's not looking your way.

(Over the year, you've learned this hard truth: Levi always knows, somehow.)

A snow storm has picked up by the time the cabin comes into view. Relief expands in your chest; you were just starting to lose the feeling of your toes.

The shelter appears to be deserted. Out of courtesy, you knock several times, checking the perimeters for signs of life, but when it’s clear no one is inside, your Captain decides that survival precedes politeness.

He surprises you with a new skill: opening locked doors.

“Dare I ask when you learned to pick locks, s-sir?” you stutter as he uses the tools from his bag. His movements are nimble and practiced, like a well-oiled machine. “S-secret skill from the Underground?”

From his crouched position, your Captain shoots you a blank look. “You may not ask.”

With a click, the door swings open.

You enter, raising your oil lamp to illuminate the inside. A half-decorated living room with a dining table, a sofa, and a fireplace. There are additional rooms to the back.

"Nobody’s lived here for months,” you comment, sniveling.

“They intended to come back.” He bobs his head to the right. "There's fresh wood and supplies over there."

You hum in agreement, teeth chattering. “It’s-s common enough for folks beneath the mountains to have a second house up here. Maybe they plan on coming up come s-summer.”

Levi grunts out a sound, presumably not caring too much as to why the house is well-equipped, but glad that it is all the same. Either way, you're clearly trespassing on someone's property, and you hope that whoever this house belongs to won't mind soldiers occupying it for one night.

Knowing the Captain, they'll probably find it in a cleaner state than the one they left it in, anyway.

But before that, your Captain seems to have other plans.

“Before we do anything else, we need to take care of you,” he declares.

Your Captain’s gray eyes then narrow onto you, roving up and down. His attention makes you straighten in place, feeling uneasy to be in his spotlight. Levi closes the door with a swing of a leg. His stare never strays from his thorough inspection.

A shiver licks your spine. “S-sir?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf. Strip, now.”

Your stomach stupidly flips at Levi’s orders.

"You need to change into something dry," he adds in a rueful tone.

You chuckle nervously while your brain goes into overdrive.

... Shit.

This is going to be a long night, isn't it?

Trying to push aside all the ways you feel overwhelmed by Levi's presence (you are, after all, fucking cold), you begin to remove your ice-coated gloves. This, however, proves to be an exceptionally painful endeavor—you suck in a breath when you realize you can't completely bend your fingers. Oh, no. Why can’t you bend your fingers?

“Damn it, you’re like an icicle,” comes Levi’s sharp voice behind you. Before you can make sense of anything, you feel your Captain by your right side, seizing your hands to inspect them.

You wince.

Levi is right, of course. Your fingers feel as though they are frozen, though you know they’re not. You can still move them, just painfully.

Still, you’re not exactly feeling peachy right now. You’re visibly trembling and your balance is growing more wobbly. And why is your vision so hazy?

“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?” Levi scolds. He shrugs off his own gloves and scatters them to the floor. He grabs your hands into his own, rubbing to create friction.

You stare, watching his slender fingers—rough and calloused and yet, so gentle—encompass your own. It’s the first time he touches you like this, and even if there’s nothing romantic about the gesture, your heart somersaults all the same.

(Stress and romantic attraction cause such similar reactions, you note in passing.)

“I’m s-sorry, sir. I really didn’t realize I was feeling so cold,” you say.

“Do you have something dry to change into?"

You nod.

“Good. Go change while I get the fireplace going,” he tells you.

You do just that.

While Levi works on the chimney, you discover that the rest of the house consists of two bedrooms and a lavatory. You don’t waste time inspecting them; you quickly lock yourself in a room. The first layer to go is your coat, but everything else is eventually removed. You change into dry pants and a sweater retrieved from your bag. Then you lay out your belongings, as well as Levi’s scattered coat and gloves, on wooden chairs, placing them near the starting fire, hoping (praying) that they dry by tomorrow morning.

Levi’s just finished throwing several logs into the fire. He stands up to meet you, looking at you through a half-lidded stare.

Unlike you, your Captain's clothing is relatively dry; only his gray shirt sports wet patches, the fabric clinging to his chest. You try not to stare at his well-defined muscles for too long.

(Even if you really, really, really wish you could.)

The beginning of crackling amber hovers on one side of Levi’s face, creating sunken shadows on the opposite side.

“Looks like cleaning will need to wait. You’re trembling like a drowned rat,” he says.

You conceal a smile. “L-like the ones in the Underground, s-sir?”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.” His eyes narrow to slithers. “Just… sit your ass down on the sofa. I’ll find blankets and make tea.” You stare at him blankly, which he seems to take as some kind of signal to press the urgency in his tone. “Fucking stay awake, got it?”

You give him a confused look, but soon catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows. Ah. You're not looking so well—your lips are chapped, and there's shadows plaguing your eyes.

Levi finds several blankets in a wardrobe. With your help, he moves the sofa from one side of the room to the next, positioning it right in front of the fire. Levi forces you to sit (“But sir, I can—” “Stop arguing and sit the fuck down.”), and soon, he layers covers over your shoulders.

The sofa shifts under his weight as he sits next to you.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod, still groggy. You're still cold, but the tea is helping a little.

Still, you should really try to warm up now. You attempt to take a sip of your drink, but in your excitement, you forget the fact that fresh tea tends to be, in fact, piping hot.

It trickles down to a burning sensation down your throat. “Pah, I think I just burned my tongue.”

“Now I'm starting to think you take pleasure in inflicting pain on yourself.”

“N-no." You gulp nervously. "I just didn’t notice the tea was so hot.”

“It's tea."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm still not thinking straight. It's just s-still so cold in here.”

You do your best to hug the cup of tea with both hands, still audibly shivering, while snuggling into the blankets Levi threw over you. In front of you, the hearth continues to warm, staining the room with a glow that's oddly comforting.

A log splinters.

Then, Levi’s voice barrels through: “Hand over the tea.”

You turn towards him.

Your Captain is fixing you with a severe frown. Without questioning his orders, you hand him the drink. You think he might add some lukewarm water to it to make it drinkable, but to your surprise, he places both cups on the cold floor close to the edge of the sofa.

A confused look draws on your face.

What now?

“Fucking come here already,” your Captain orders.

And he gestures with two fingers in his direction.

That’s when you realize what Levi’s offering. He’s… beckoning you closer.

He wants to warm you up.

You gape at him.

This isn't happening. Is it?

But apparently not interested in watching you mull this over, Levi doesn’t leave you time to consider his proposal. He yanks on the blankets draped over your shoulders, reeling you close. You heave as the back of your skull collides with his collarbone, and you readjust against the crook of his neck.

“S’ just for a moment,” he mumbles under his breath, arms settling by your side.

And who are you to contest that? He's your Captain, you can hardly disobey him (well, you know you could disobey this particular order, but it's too late for that now).

So you let him tuck you close, and you discover that Levi is warm, and you think how nice that feels after hours of walking in cold weather. In fact, Levi’s body rather reminds you of a furnace right now, burning at its strongest in winter. His embrace creates a little cocoon of body heat just for you; soon, all you can smell is him, the scent of tea leaves and cotton enveloping you into a lovely state of serenity.

(You always did love Levi's scent.)

With enough elements grounding you, you let your head roll back, pressing against his right shoulder blade, trying to ignore his steel muscles (that you can, admittedly, finally feel to some degree—and they are just as hard as you always imagined they would be).

“Fuck, you’re freezing.” Your Captain’s voice rumbles against your back, presumably feeling the cold sting of your cheek as you nestle closer.

In response, Levi’s hands slot over your forearms, something careful and hesitant about his touch. You hold your breath, feeling his fingers spread against your sweater. There, he begins to rub up and down, repeated motions that create tiny tingles down their path.

The added friction renders you speechless.

It was one thing to be so close to him before; now, your Captain is essentially stroking you. His attempts to create warmth spread like wildfire, and in an absence of coherent thoughts, you let the fire consume you.

Soon, even the fireplace growing in size doesn’t seem to phase you. It licks the cold air, spreading from all sides, but it is nothing compared to the burning sensations simmering across your neck, your cheeks, and down to your core. It’s like Levi’s touch is commanding it everywhere, this warmth, leaving you flustered and confused.

Then Levi’s fingers make contact with your bare wrist, and you jolt.

Because unlike the rest of his body, his hands are freezing.

“What… Captain! Your hands are—w-wha—” You let your voice trail, heart plummeting in your chest, when you come to a realization, a realization that makes you a little frustrated. “Hey! You were cold all along as well!”

A clicking sound resonates against the shell of your ear. “Stop yapping.”

You try to move to face him, but Levi grabs your wrists with an iron grip, keeping you locked against the expanse of his chest, making his order quite clear.

“Quit squirming and stay put,” he mutters.

“But, Captain, you gave me all the blankets,” you complain, for once foregoing your respect for him and letting your concern speak volumes instead. A decided frown settled between your brows. “What would I say to Hange if their best soldier died trying to save me?”

“I wasn't going to die."

"But what if you did?"

"Then I’m sure you’d have found a creative way to spin it.”

“You still shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth Humanity’s Strongest.”

“Stop saying stupid shit and focus on staying warm.”

You sigh. Your Captain and his stubborn ways. He was never good at putting his needs on the line, and years of military service haven’t changed this fact.

Still, not finding the energy to argue back, you allow the conversation to die out.

It is only a minute later, as you try to relax back in your position that you notice that Levi’s breath has mellowed out as well. In fact, your Captain’s attempts at creating frictions have slowed in urgency. His pace is now languid; his fingers are wrapped around your shoulders while his thumbs slide up and down, up and down. Slow.

You imagine that the two of you rather look like two people lounging on a sofa after a long day's work.

Like lovers.

“Tea's ready,” comes Levi's husky voice, making you jump in your seat.

You swallow down all the feelings bubbling at the back of your throat—the ones begging and begging to be let out—keeping your face trained ahead.

“R-right. Um, thank you for that, Captain,” you say. "I feel all better now."

Breaking away from his embrace, you try to avoid his burning gaze. You grab both cups, handing him one without sparring him a glance.

Instead, you move to sit at the edge of your seat, far away from your Captain. Between the two of you, the covers bundle together, discarded.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

You stare at your flustered reflection in the tea cup. "Mm?"

“Why the hell does it smell like old eggs in here?”

That takes you right out of it.

You finally look up at Levi, meeting his lidded stare. Old eggs?

“... Sorry?”

“The fucking stench,” he mutters, wrinkling his noise. “It reeks in here.”

And that’s when you realize that Levi is talking about the smell in the air, the scent that’s lingered everywhere since you entered the house, but you were too focused on everything else to notice.

An odor you know well enough.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, “that’s the smell of a hot spring.”

“What?”

You finish your cup of tea in one gulp, now just perfectly warm and drinkable, and place it back on the floor. “I think this house might have one.”

You swiftly get up, darting to the bedroom you changed in earlier.

And sure enough, as you pull the curtains open, you notice a familiar sight. The back gardens of the house, all dusted in white, are painted with steam and water.

A hot spring.

.... And you are, you realize, a complete idiot.

Why didn't you think of this before? You could have simply taken a dip to warm up.

“What’s that?” Levi’s monotone voice comes from behind. He’s close to you, hovering just behind your shoulders, but you do not turn around. You’re certain that if you do, that you will find him bathed by the moonlight and that you won’t be able to form a single coherent sentence.

“A natural body of water, sir. It’s what Commander Hange was talking about in their briefing for this mission. Hot springs are found all over these mountains..." You bite your lower lip. "I didn’t realize we were right next to a hot spring. I could have spared you all the effort in warming me up.”

“No thanks, I’ve no intentions in having us swim around in something that smells so foul,” he grumbles. “Besides, it’s not good to go from two extreme temperatures.”

You hum. “True enough.”

“It smells vile.”

“It’s the sulfur. It’s great for muscle tension.”

“Sounds dubious.”

“I promise, it’s true!”

Forgetting your own advice, you turn around to drive your point home, and you realize that Levi is close—that you could count his eyelashes, if you wanted. But you don’t, because normal soldiers don’t think about counting the eyelashes of their superior.

“W-When I was young," you stammer, "my parents sometimes brought me up to the mountains to swim in them. They’re perfectly safe.”

Levi makes a face. “I’ll pass. But I guess it’s good to know the stench isn’t coming from the house itself.”

You snort.

Levi’s eyes seem to soften, half-lidded as they were. And just as you suspected, the moonlight trickling in really does something to your Captain’s face, bathing in with a silver hue that brings out the blue in his eyes.

Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips, don’t lips…

“Looks like titan steam,” the Captain suddenly comments, looking at the steam fogging the windows beyond your shoulders.

He takes a step back.

You let out a much-needed breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding all along. “Uh-huh. It does.”

You glance back towards the hot spring, noticing that the snowstorm is close to subsiding, a cloak of black draping the sky beyond.

“Well, I suppose we should get to work, now that we’re all warmed up, huh?” you suggest.

“Yeah. Let's get this dusty-old house spotless.”

That night, you can't fall asleep.

This in itself isn’t a rare occurrence—most Scouts have somewhat questionable sleeping habits. Between the world of titans and watching comrades die, there's plenty of reasons for soldiers to struggle with sleeping.

The problem is, at least tonight, the culprit isn’t insomnia.

It’s… something else.

Something that's lead your thoughts astray.

Maybe it's everything that happened with the Captain earlier, maybe it's the snowy setting that feels oddly romantic, maybe it's the cold that zapped your brain but... you keep on imagining what it’d be like to have Levi next to you, doing indescribable things to you. You imagine him turning on his pillow, taking his time to take in every line of your exposed skin. He’d unravel you with his gaze alone, you’re sure of it. Would he bestow the same intensity he reserves in training? Would his fingers hook around your limbs with the same ferocity? You think they might.

You think—

You groan, cutting your fantasies short. You and your damn fixation on Captain Levi—the one person who couldn’t possibly be less within your reach. This crush of yours must be a cruel joke from Maria, Rose, Sina… maybe all three of them combined.

More importantly, why is it all resurfacing now of all times? It's been fucking years that this one-sided crush of yours has been, just, there. In all this time, you've managed to reign in your emotions.

So why? Why won't your mind stop wandering into dangerous territories? Why can't you shut it down even now?

Whatever the reason may be, you need to find a solution to your... predicament. You suppose you could try to be quiet about it here, to bring yourself the release you desire, but you fear your Captain hearing you, given that he's sleeping in the room next to yours. You can’t imagine being caught in the act of pleasuring yourself.

No.

You need to find somewhere private.

Somewhere like…

Oh.

The hot springs.

Of course—why didn’t you think about it before?

At once, you shuffle to a seated position in your bed, glancing out of the windows of the bedroom. The weather has cleared up by now, freckles of delicate white weaving through the air. Just beyond it, the hot spring awaits.

Serene. Lovely. Inviting.

Just the kind of spot you've been dreaming of.

Sure, your Captain wasn’t too keen on the smell, but you can wash afterwards.

Yes, this will have to do.

With your grand master-plan now laid out, you quickly spring into action. You gather your belongings: a towel, boots, an oil lamp.

In the main room, the remains of the fireplace are still dim and warm. Levi is occupying the second bedroom, and his door is closed shut—just as you’d hoped. It’s well past midnight, he must be asleep.

You grin to yourself. So far, your plan is a resounding success.

Outside, the air hangs still. The blizzard's fury has long passed, leaving only delicate snowflakes that twirl gracefully through the air. You pause to savor the newfound peace, taking in the picturesque landscape: rolling hills blanketed in pristine white, majestic forests embracing the mountain's gorges.

And the hot springs.

Nestled nearby, the cabin's springs stretch impressively, their shape narrow and serpentine rather than wide. Smooth rocks jut out over the water's edges, with pines and shrubs clinging to them. Together with the rising steam, they weave a misty veil that softens your view of the night.

Shedding your clothes, you quickly step in.

And oh... the initial touch of warm water is everything you'd hoped for and more. It sends a delightful trail of goosebumps trailing across your body.

The hot spring is shallow enough for ease, yet deep enough to envelop you comfortably as you sit. As you wade deeper, the water laps gently just above your chest, soothing the day’s weariness from your muscles. You let out a contented sigh, a particular knot in your spine coming undone.

This is the respite you've craved these past hours, especially after today's strenuous hike. It's a pity, really, that your Captain was so against the hot springs. This might have done him some good.

You venture further in with a smile plastered on your face. The clear waters mirror the starlit sky above, inviting you to explore every tranquil corner of this secluded paradise.

It isn't until you're midway across the hot spring, shoulders dipped beneath the water, that a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you.

Light.

Movement.

Noise.

With the instincts of a trained Scout, you crouch into the water. Through the shrubs, you suddenly notice a pool of yellow light, too intense and artificial to be anything natural. Strange. It bears the distinct glow of the oil lamps used by the Survey Corps. More troubling still, there's a subtle sound of splashing water.

Your gaze flicks anxiously to where your clothes lie scattered, a distance away. You didn't bring a weapon with you. Should you attempt to go back?

Before you can think further on what to do next, your peripheral catches a glimpse of pale skin.

You freeze.

In the thickening steam, rising like delicate spirals into the chilly air, it’s hard to trust your eyes. This could easily be a hallucination.

But as the figure emerges, shoulders and back surfacing smoothly from the water, the reality sets in sharply.

It's him.

Captain Levi.

The man you’ve had a crush on for as long as you remember.

The man who you were just fantasizing about.

The man who’s currently naked a short distance away from you.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Levi is clearly out for a swim. Apparently unaware of your presence, he pauses at the edge of the spring closest to a hill. He tilts his head back, hand brushing back wet hair. He looks up at the sky, oddly peaceful.

(The altitude is so high that it almost looks like your Captain could touch stars if he wanted to.)

But then your attention is drawn inexorably to the droplets cascading down his bare chest, and the full implications of your predicament crash over you.

Sure, water conceals Levi’s lower body, but his upper body leaves little left to the imagination. The curves of his shoulders, sloping down towards well-sculpted biceps. His chest, marked with scars and lines left by ODM use. His abs, well-defined and toned—a feat you know is only possible due to his diligent training ethic.

Already, warning bells ring in your brain.

What are you doing still standing here? By some miracle, Levi hasn’t noticed you. But with his perceptive senses, it won’t be long before he does.

And when that happens, you’re in trouble. Not only are you naked and gawking, but you also have no real reason to be here.

You could try to tell him you couldn't sleep. If anyone could understand, it might be Levi. The man rarely sleeps.

But you’re not entirely sure your Captain wouldn’t see right through your deception. He's sharp like that.

That can't happen. You can't admit to him the real reason you came out here: to touch yourself while thinking of him.

You need to leave. Now.

Which is why you carefully start to back away, eyes trained on him—praying he doesn't notice you.

Unfortunately, while you miraculously slipped past Levi’s attention the first time around, your luck has run out. His focus shifts, honed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

Then comes his voice, slicing through the quiet of the night. “Who’s there?”

The familiar timbre sends shivers down your spine and tightens the knot between your legs.

Panic sets in.

Desperate, you dive underwater, hoping to blend into the natural shroud provided by the spring.

But Levi isn’t called Humanity’s Strongest for nothing. With instincts sharper than a knife, you see the blurred outline of his pale body trudge through the water at an alarming speed.

Shit.

Levi’s voice rumbles through the water, but the meaning of his words are drowned by the elements. Your lungs burn as you begin to swim away, the mingling bubbles and steam clouding around you, the sulfuric scent of the spring sharp in your nostrils.

You pump every ounce of strength in your frantic escape.

Then a strong hand clamps around your arm, and you're dragged upwards.

“Oi!”

Instinctively, your hand lashes out, grabbing hold as your body is yanked forward. You gasp, air filling your lungs, the cold biting at your wet skin.

Your eyes round when you realize what your hand has landed on: one of Levi’s biceps.

You glance up, eyes locking with your Captain's surprised face.

A choked sound escapes you.

“What...” He says your first name, a frown settling between his militant brows. There's a lull in the conversation, like he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing, but his barking tone soon replaces it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Moments later, his lips press together in a taut line, and his biting grip tightens. He pushes back so that you're pressed against the edge of the hot spring, where he lets you go.

You land with a splash.

At once, you attempt to cover yourself using your hands, dipping into the water so that you're almost entirely submerged. Levi looms over you, apparently not feeling discomfort from being naked before you. The water level arrives below his waist, and you can’t help but notice a trail of trimmed black hair that starts just above his navel.

You want to scream.

Your eyes fleet back up. His expression is inscrutable, but his eyes carry an intensity that you've only seen reserved for training sessions.

“You have five seconds to explain yourself,” Levi grumbles, magnetic and sharp.

“I—” you begin, only to close your mouth again.

You… what? You can’t tell Levi the truth. You would rather drown than admit to your lewd intentions.

But you also have to say something.

“—I didn’t realize you were in here,” you manage with some difficulty.

There. That's not a lie, is it? You wouldn't dare to come in here if you knew your Captain would be around.

Unfortunately, your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

“And why aren’t you asleep?” he asks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching the steam envelop Levi’s torso. “I couldn’t sleep, sir.”

“We’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow. You can’t be dead weight because you wanted to go on a midnight stroll.”

You hate this… this feeling that you are letting him down. It’s everything you strive to avoid when it comes to your Captain. You’re proud to be in his squad and you pride yourself on being the best soldier you can be.

“That won't happen, sir. I can carry my weight.” You try to sound resolute, calm and collected. You fear you may be failing. “And Captain… I find it a bit odd that you're saying all of this to me.”

“What?”

Walls. You’re treading dangerous territories.

You clear your throat, waving a hand in the air. “Didn't you say the water was unhygienic? That it reeked? That we should both go to sleep?”

"Get to the point."

"I just assumed..." you mumble, chewing at the inside of your cheeks.

"Oh, I see." Something flashes in his eyes. Torture. "You hoped you could just do as you please, that the curfew rules didn't apply to you. Hate to break off your fantasies, soldier, but that's not going to happen. I'm here and you're caught."

"Well, you also need sleep, so..." you attempt, dipping your chin away from him and into the water. Levi's eyes narrow. You clear your throat. “I’m just speaking out of concern.”

“Then don’t concern yourself.”

You grimace. You're really not doing too well with all of this, are you?

You need to turn the tide, somehow.

“I apologize, Captain. But I don’t think I’m in the wrong," you try to reason. "My track record speaks for itself: I’ve never faltered, even when running on fumes. You know I haven’t. I couldn’t sleep and this seemed like the best solution to reach that end. I wasn’t planning to stay here all night or to be a burden, sir; I just needed to clear my head before going to bed.”

You look at him again, trying to stand straighter for your words.

Levi's expression doesn't falter.

Then, he lets out a long exhale, half-turning away from you. “Look, I'm not your parent. Do as you please. But don’t come crying to me tomorrow if you're tired. You better be able to keep up. I expect nothing less of you.”

Your Captain must recognize that level-headed attitude he witnessed plenty of times out on expeditions, or he wouldn’t let you go down so easily.

Levi rubs his eyelids with the tips of his fingers. “And next time, pay better attention. There are all manners of perverts in this world. Even if this place seemed abandoned, you can never be too careful. It’s unlike you to be so careless.”

You chuckle nervously. If only Levi realized you’re the only degenerate lurking these waters.

“Right,” you answer. “Lucky it’s just you.”

As you say those words, Levi looks at you—really looks at you—and something shifts in his expression. His eyes move away from your face, casting his stern gaze over the rest of your body, as if seeing you for the first time.

His attention makes your breath stop.

“You should still be careful," he says in a low tone. "Men in the military are still men.”

You swallow loudly, a delicious sensation coiling at the bottom of your stomach. There’s something suggestive in Levi’s words, isn't there? You tell yourself that it’s just him showing his concern and that it means nothing beyond that.

“As I said, lucky it’s just you,” you repeat.

Then, Levi surprises you.

He takes a step forward, cornering you further to the edge of the spring. His stare glints like starlight.

Your heart leaps. What is he doing? Outside of training, Levi never approaches you like this.

You try to keep your cool at the sudden proximity. Knowing that just one peek down, and you’d see what lies between your Captain's legs. You briefly wonder what his cock looks like.

If it’s like the rest of him…

Stop.

You need to focus now—your Captain is speaking to you.

“And who’s saying I’m not the sort of man to take advantage of a situation like this one?”

Your breath hitches, unsure if you heard him correctly. His gray eyes linger on your bare shoulders, fixing it like his stare could pierce through them.

Is he... is he testing you?

Your eyes meet again. His pupils are dilated, yours are wide.

“I know you,” you hear yourself say, “you’re not that type of man.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Snow continues to dust the air, melting into the warm water surrounding you both. A faint gust of wind wheezes from down the mountain.

“You have that much faith in me, do you?” Levi asks quietly.

Your eyes flit back up. Levi has dipped further down into the water. He looks... pensive, eyes fixing his rippled reflection.

The sight of him so close almost takes the air out of your lungs.

And you’re reminded of how handsome your Captain is.

In all the years you’ve known him, all you could do was admire him from a distance—trying to keep your feelings and attraction for him in check. But Levi has always been beautiful, even when you denied yourself the opportunity to think so.

Deep-set eyes that remind you of muted skies—the occasional spark of blue shining when the sun hits his face just right. A velvety undercut that you know he trims himself every other week, the rest of his shiny hair parted in the middle. Rosy lips that appear permanently pressed together—only you’ve seen it: on the rare occasions that your Captain allows himself a downtime to drink a cup of tea with his squad and friends… yeah, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and the world is graced with one of Levi’s rare smiles. It’s a sight that you’ve kept locked in your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do.”

Levi's eyes come smoldering back onto you. “Speak up.”

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Captain Levi.”

It's true.

You first agreed to join Levi’s squad because you’d seen him fly, seen the way he handled his ODM gear. You grew to respect him like no one else. You stayed because of the sort of leader Levi proved to be. He didn’t demand authority like the rest, but he exuded it all the same. He didn’t care to be Humanity’s Strongest, but he still garnered hope and made people believe in him.

“I mean it,” you add, “I’m devoted to you.”

Levi's face pinches. “Careful with your words. I don’t like thoughtless sheep.”

“That’s not what I mean. You know I’m not scared to question your orders if I disagree with them. I’m smart and I’m strong. But even so, you’re the person I followed when I joined the Scouts. I would do anything for you.”

His eyes do not blink. “Anything.”

“Anything.”

Levi swallows heavily, taking a step back.

“Don’t say shit like that," he mutters. "Anything is everything. Other people would abuse your willingness. You should be careful.”

A moment passes by. You lick your lips, already moistened by the fog. Suddenly, you recall the actual reason for being here. You’re hot, burning. Like if you don’t get the release you desire, you might just need to cool off in the snow somewhere.

It might be why you dare to say your next words.

“Do you want to abuse my willingness?” you ask.

Levi’s stare darts back to you. Before you can control it, you squeeze your thighs tightly together, finding the tension unbearable. Levi takes notice: his eyes burn up and down, mouth parted.

It's maybe Levi's stupor that makes you act next. You push yourself up on the balls of your feet, rising with an arm draped over your breasts. The water provides a somewhat decent cover over what lies below your waist, but it does nothing to stop runlets plowing down your exposed curves.

Levi’s goes still.

And you push through.

“I lied, Captain Levi,” you tell him.

His brows knit together.

“The truth is, I came out here because," you avert your gaze, "… because I needed relief.”

“Relief.”

“Yes, relief in the…," your cheeks grow warm, "physical sense, I mean.”

“You mean masturbation.”

“You’re putting it rather plainly, but sure,” you mumble. “I.. I’d still like that relief, sir.”

“Look, whatever depravity you’re up to does not concern—”

“With you. I'd like for it to be with you.”

Everything goes still after that.

Levi’s entire face is blank, as if he sucked in all his emotions. All you can hear is the light gust of wind, swallowed by the mountains.

“What..." Levi opens his mouth, then closes it shut again as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. The knot in his throat bobs in what you can only describe as the most painful seconds of your life. You swear your heartbeat must be loud enough for him to hear. "What you're suggesting. You realize that it’s against the rules.”

“I realize, sir,” you say.

“That I’m your Captain and you’re my subordinate?”

Dread settles at the bottom of your stomach. Yikes, you’re in for one of his lectures, aren’t you?

“Yes, Captain Levi.”

“That both of us could get in trouble if this gets out?”

... What?

Your eyes flit up.

Did you hear him correctly?

Levi assesses you. He takes a step forward and you shrivel back as he plants his arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He dips down into the water to come eye-level with you.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, stare never straying from yours.

You blink. Is your Captain seeking to understand your desires?

"S-sir?” you stutter.

“Tell me what you want, if you could have it,” he says.

Oh shit, he is. Your Captain is actually trying to understand what you want.

“Oh, um," you fumble with your words, heartbeat climbing up to your throat. Truthfully, you never expected to make it this far, so you feel unprepared. "Well, in my fantasies, my partner would… touch me, sir.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. But I suppose it begins with a… kiss.”

Levi’s eyes flicker to your lips.

Oh, fuck.

"Show me."

Your eyes widen. "S-show you?"

"That's what I just said."

Now, normally, you'd be the type to overthink and overanalyze just about everything. So when your Captain says those words, beckons you closer, you stop thinking.

You do as he asks and you kiss him.

And you discover that his mouth is soft, like velvet on skin.

Then Levi leans into you—moving his lips over yours, cupping your cheeks with more vigor—and you realize that it’s truly happening. Your hands fall onto his chest bone and his heartbeat sparks under your fingertips. It's his heart. The heart he dedicated to the Survey Corps—it's yours, if only for a brief moment.

And reality crashes on you.

You’re kissing Levi Ackerman. Your Captain. Humanity's Strongest.

Holy shit.

Not wanting to waste this fleeting opportunity (because surely, this can't last), you slide your tongue further into the depths of his mouth. Levi lets out a hum of approval, and you taste him—taste the chamomile he drinks most evenings and the mint from his toothpaste.

When your eyes venture open, you find that your Captain’s steely gaze is already fixed on you, watching you through a half-lidded stare. You can see the clear blue ring around his silver irises.

It only makes you want him more.

"C-captain," you say through the kiss.

Levi breaks apart briefly. “Tell me.”

You take his hand and guide it to your chest.

“T-touch me here. Please.”

Levi acquiesces, gripping the bud of your nipple between two fingers and pinching, hard.

Pleasure ripples through your body, making you whimper in place.

At that moment, you can only imagine what you look like—flushed, pliant and pleading for more. You’ve never shown this side of yourself to him before; you wonder if it repulses him.

Wrong, utterly wrong. The opposite seems to be true, in fact; your Captain seems to delight himself with this facet you are revealing.

“Desperate, are we?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, tone dripping with a husky sense of satisfaction.

Before you can answer to his teasing, his mouth moves over your neck, while his hands continue to caress your breasts. The contrast of temperatures is so stark—the hot spring so warm, his skin so cold—that it makes you audibly gasp.

Your hands slide up towards his nape, and you brush the brittle undercut and twist, tugging him closer.

That’s when you feel it… the hardness—his hardness, pressing against your plump flesh.

At the contact, the Captain groans against your throat, biting down without restraint. You whimper, attempting to push back, but Levi's teeth don't let go.

"Quit squirming," he mutters.

Your warm breath clouds the air. “C-captain, please.”

“Mm?”

"Please touch me. I can’t bear to wait anymore.”

In response, Levi slides his free hand to tug at your hair. He pulls on your locks, exposing the side of your neck for him to ravish, nibbling from the tip of your ear to your collarbone.

“Don't you know that all good things come to those who wait?” he says.

Vindictive that your Captain is depriving you of what you’ve asked, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. You roll your hips forward, grinding against him, a fleeting attempt to make him just as desperate at you are.

Levi hisses as your soft curves plow against his erection. “You little minx.”

He pulls you back to shoot you a glare. Dangerous move, his eyes convey. And yet, it also gives you a glimpse into his state and, oh... interesting. You aren’t the only one who’s flustered, you realize—rosiness dusts his cheeks and his pupils are wide-shot black.

Your lips quirk into a playful smile.

Levi shrugs with one arm, looking away. “Be patient, will you?” His voice is hoarse. “I’m not someone who does things half-way.”

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh. Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

Levi lets out a grunt that’s so decidedly him.

Suddenly, Levi completely lets go and your body drops into the water. You frown. One of Levi's lids twitches.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Teaching you some patience. Wait here and stay put."

"But, you said—“

“—that's an order.”

You close your mouth, shivering at the commanding tone in his voice. You aren't sure how you'll be able to go back from this after tonight—listening to his orders on the battlefield is going to be a nightmare.

Nonetheless, you do as he says, watching as he swims offshore where the oil lamp is placed.

And the whole situation hits you like bricks.

Holy shit.

You just kissed Captain Levi. And you're about to do more with him.

Why exactly is it happening now, of all times, you wonder? Why is your Captain allowing this?

In all the years you’ve been working alongside the Captain, you always thought your crush had gone unnoticed, or if Levi knew, that he had ignored it altogether.

Your observations are cut short as Levi comes back, holding up his towel and his green cloak above the water's surface.

You raise a questioning brow.

“I’m not touching you in this water, natural spring or not.” Your Captain unfolds the towel as he places it neatly over the smooth edge of the hot spring that's snow-free, casting the cloak behind. He shifts his blank stare on you, and taps on the ground with one hand. “Sit.”

You gulp, self-conscious at the idea of exposing yourself like this. Sure, it’s nighttime, and sure, the steam obscures the air, but he’s demanding a level of vulnerability that you hardly give out.

Levi picks up on your hesitation in a flash of a moment, reading you like a book. “You can still back away from this, you know.”

“I… no. No, I want this.” And you do—the way your core pulsates even now should be a telltale sign of just how much you want this. “I really want this.”

“Then what? You’re never uncertain during expeditions.”

“That’s because I know my shit out there. It’s not that easy with you. This is scary.”

Levi scoffs. “You think I’m scarier than a titan?”

“Of course not. But I overthink.”

Levi traps your chin between two fingers, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Then don’t think.”

You falter, mouth parting. Levi skims a thumb over your lower lip. The sudden gentleness behind his words, combined with his actions, makes you falter.

“Okay,” you find yourself whispering back.

“Okay, what?”

You meet his stare head-on. His eyes are no longer a muted silver, but turning towards a stormy gray. They demand an answer.

And you have just the thing to give him.

“Please help me not to think, Captain.”

Levi lets out a long hum as he slides closer. There, he takes the time to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, all the while his hands create a path down your body, exploring for the first time.

“Is that what you want?” he asks in a low tone. “For me to help you stop thinking?”

“Y-yes." You swallow loudly. "You have complete control. Do whatever you want to me, just... get me there.”

In one movement, Levi plucks you off the ground, his hands gripping your ass as if you weighed nothing at all. You squirm in his grip, clutching his back for support as your wet flesh slides against his own. He then carefully places you onto the towel so that you're sitting on the edge of the hot spring, your calves dipping into the water. The rocks under you are smooth, and you now tower over him.

Levi takes a step back to admire you, his eyes roving over every facet of your body, tracing your curves with meticulous care.

It makes you squirm in place. “Captain…”

“Levi,” he answers without missing a beat, engrossed in admiring your body. He parts your legs as he anchors himself in between them, where he draws circles along your rib cage, thumb slotting along every dip.

“Huh?”

His silver eyes look up to you, a fire in them that wasn’t there before.

“We’re not here as soldiers, so. Just call me Levi,” he says.

One hand nestles along the flesh of your waist while you tremble in his arms. Levi angles your head sideways with his other palm, siphoning your neck with kisses before finding a sensitive spot that makes you gasp.

“Alright… ah, Levi,” you say with some difficulty. It feels strange to call your Captain so informally, but there’s something arousing about it too.

"And if I do anything that displeases you or that feels too much, just so."

"Say what?"

He pulls back for a moment. "I don't know, pick something."

"Anything?"

He nods.

You think about it for a moment when the idea hits you. "Okay... Green, red. Formation colors."

Levi scoffs. "Titan formations."

"You said to pick, so I picked. Still a soldier through and through, right?"

"Whatever you say."

Levi’s hand trails to your chest, moving to cup one of your breasts between his nimble digits. His thumbs toy with it while his tongue finds its place along the valley of your second breast.

His hot breath drifts against the tip of your hardened tit, “I'm gonna go down on you.”

Before you can answer, Levi flicks the bud of your nipples with his teeth, swirling his tongue in circles that sparks pleasure everywhere—leaving you to moan and hold onto his set of hair.

Your words tumble mid-breath. “Are you s-sure?”

Levi’s stare lock with yours, his lips still sealed to your breast. He pulls away with a pop, a thread of saliva connecting between his mouth and your nipple.

The sight makes you want to scream.

“Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?” he asks.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“No… I guess not. I… fuck, okay, yes. Go down on me, Levi. Green, so fucking green.”

Levi takes a step back, using your name to usher you into execution. “On your back, then, and put my cloak on. You’re not catching a fucking cold from this.”

I don’t think I’ll be getting cold with what's ahead, you think to yourself.

Nonetheless, you comply with his orders. You slide his cloak over your shoulders and prop your elbows down. Before you can blink, Levi pulls you towards him by the grip of your thighs, causing your back to lie flush with the ground. You glance at him, bewildered.

Levi has wrapped his hands around the meat of your legs, parting them to have full access. There's a wild glint to his eyes, like what you have between your legs is making him lose himself. Before you can blink, Levi begins to heed kisses on the inner parts of your legs, his touch slow and treacherous. It makes your hips buck, twitching beneath him.

“Sensitive, are we?” Levi tuts, his warm breath tickling your skin.

Any clever answer you might have given him is snuffed out as his warm breath falls on your sex. His hot tongue dips into your folds, something almost wicked in the way he rams in. You jerk up, calves sliding out of the water to wrap themselves around his neck.

You shoot up to grab a fistful of his hair.

But Levi stops you in your tracks. He pulls back, gathering your wrists in one hand. “Stay put. You can look but you can’t touch.”

And with that, he flings your wrists to your stomach, clinging onto you as his other hand pins one leg down. Then, he relishes in the wetness between your legs, slowing down in a manner that’s oh so sensual.

That wicked little man.

“Captain,” you complain, trembling beneath his touch. You can’t take it anymore—not being able to move, being held down as he unravels you, and now he teases you with his tongue?

It’s too much and at the same, it's not enough.

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts.

“S-s-shit,” you breathe out, your mind going into overdrive from being pinned like this.

You knew of Levi’s strength, of course. Everyone within the Walls knows about Humanity’s Strongest. You’ve even had the privilege to witness it firsthand on expeditions.

But seeing it used in his lovemaking, well… it's something else entirely.

“You fucking tease. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?” you mutter.

His voice hums against your sex. “And what if I am?”

That’s when Levi hits your spot, tenderly sucking on your clit in a way that makes you heave. This time, you can’t help but release a louder moan, hips arching up to meet his lips.

But just as you're about to reach that bliss you've craved all along, Levi pulls away.

You're left cold. Aching.

You tilt your head to gape at him. Levi’s mouth glistens with your slickness, but it does nothing to quell down your frustration.

What the hell is he doing?

You’re about to mouth him off when his expression shifts, stormy eyes narrowing.

“Patience,” he grits out.

It’s painful, the way he just delayed your orgasm. In the absence of his touch, your core throbs, begging for some kind of release.

So despite him being your superior, you can’t help but let out disgruntled words, “I don’t like being delayed, sir.”

Levi scoffs as his hands travel back onto your dampened skin. “I always knew you’d get bossy in bed.”

Your brows raise, wondering if you heard him correctly. Does this mean your Captain has thought about you… in bed?

Before you can ask, Levi moves on, dipping back into the task at hand. He shoves your legs apart, pinning you in place with an iron grip. His other hand trails over your damp inner thigh, positioning one finger at the entrance of your vagina, a digit sliding in. You feel your walls clench around his finger, pleasure ebbing through you as he discovers that magic spot that makes your toes curl.

“Perfect fucking cunt,” Levi slurs against you, cheek pressed against your shaking leg as he glides his deft finger with steady movements, mouth nuzzling closer to your silky clit.

You whimper at his praises, hips bulking up to chase his tongue. You try to keep quiet, but the more your Captain learns where to hit your points of pleasure, the more you think you may not maintain this charade for very long.

You realize that the way he delayed your orgasm has made the buildup now so much more intense. Your muscles tense, like a spring about to let loose.

So the relief that comes from Levi’s mouth wrapping against your clit again brings tears in your eyes. Pleasure seeps in. You try to grind against him to chase it even faster, but Levi remains unwilling to allow you to assert your dominance here—he keeps you pinned, keeping complete control, like he said he would.

More—you need more.

“Please, Captain. Please, please, please.”

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts. It's as if all he needed was to hear you plead to give you exactly what you want. His digit rams into you, the pad of his thumb moving to tease you while his tongue flicks your clit with increased fervency.

Your heart drums quicker than a horse’s canter.

“… shit, shit, shit,” you choke.

When you open your eyes again, you find that Levi’s face is locked on you already—his compact muscles tense, his usual steel-eyes now a smoky haze. If only you knew what this is doing to him. His mouth seals on your bundle of nerves with a groan, his digit curling to rub your g-spot, thrusting with well-timed movements.

And then, he hits the point you were begging to be touched all along, groaning into your folds…

Right.

There.

The coil splits and your climax flares.

Your mouth opens to release a silent scream, skull rolling back as tiny warm tingles swim through your body.

Holy hell.

Levi stays with you through the orgasm, riding the bliss with you. He takes in the sight of you coming undone for him—learning from it, committing it in his memory.

Legs shaking, you don’t even register Levi tending to you as you come down. He licks your wetness pulsating in his mouth, enraptured in the taste of it as he takes it all in. With meticulous dexterity, he slides his coated fingers into his mouth, watching you as he goes about it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stutter out.

In response, Levi only continues to pepper kisses over your trembling legs. A madman, you think.

After a moment, Levi’s touch slides away. The sound of water sloshing as he pushes himself out of the hot spring.

Your head lulls sideways to admire him.

Levi’s neck is flushed—whether from the stream or from going down on you, it’s hard to tell—but it’s about the most bewitching sight you’ve ever seen. He sinks to his knees, like a religious man kneels before the Three Goddesses, and your breath falters as you catch sight of his erection.

He’s hard, tip flushed red. A trail of black hair paves down from his navel to his erection, while the rest of his body glistens under the moonlight. Sinewy muscles and tendons, locked together—years of relentless training and surviving on display.

The sight of it makes it impossible to think.

“Captain Levi,” you say with some urgency.

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna need you inside me. Now.”

“Are you ordering me around?” There's slight derision in his voice, twisting your insides.

“Yes,” you lick your lip, eyes locking with his, “that’s right, I’m ordering you.”

Levi huffs, forearms flexing as he crawls towards you—slowly, like a predator does its prey. With his body still warm from the hot spring, it creates a fog around him, his pale skin gleaming like gossamer.

Levi's voice remains steady, eyes impassive, but there's a hint of something in his eyes that tells you he enjoys being spoken back to.

“Someone thinks highly of herself, ordering her Captain around,” he chastises.

“Said Captain has yet to say no.”

“And why would I refuse you?”

At that, your Captain captures your lips. Your savor the way his body molds into yours, tasting your muskiness on his tongue. A wonderful sensation overwhelms you then—knowing you allowed your body to succumb to his touches, knowing he wanted to taste you in this manner.

As he breaks away the kiss, you can't help but continue to ask for more.

“Sir…”

Levi tugs at your waist, sliding you back down with force. “What did I say about calling me by my name?”

He looms over you, his bangs dusting his face. Your lips twitch into a coy smile, sliding your fingers into his slick hair. It's so soft.

“And what if I want to call you by your title?” you ask.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Despite the neutral tone in his voice, there’s something dark in his stare, heightened by pink cheeks and red ears. He strokes the ball of your shoulder with his thumb. “You’re one of those people who gets off on authority, huh?”

You grip his arms, turning your head away. Levi rubs his cock over your clit, teasing you and spreading your wetness. You mewl.

“You're lucky I'm feeling generous,” Levi says in your ear. “You better use it well."

Your breath catches in your chest as the tip of his length enters you. His warm hands skim over the flesh of your body, letting you slowly adjust to him, cradling you.

“That will all depend on you, Captain Levi,” you manage to pant out, letting the l sound roll of your tongue.

He grates out your name. “So fucking mouthy.”

“Well, I learned from the best, sir.”

Levi’s stare locks onto you, gazing at you like he was in a trance. His Adam's apple bobs. He almost looks vulnerable for a split moment.

“You've watched me, have you?” he says in a low tone.

Your cheeks warm at the suggestion in Levi’s words, mouth parting to contest when you feel his forefinger run along your lower lash line. Your eyes meet his piercing gaze.

He leans close, mouth hovering close to yours.

“I've watched you too,” he confesses.

And then, Levi slams into you.

Your cry mixes in with Levi's groan. Reaching blindly for something to hold on to, wanting—needing—him to understand just what he’s doing to you, you settle on clawing at his back. Levi’s thrusts are treacherous—painfully slow at first, pounding with full intensity.

The way of a man trying to ruin you.

“Holy s-shit,” you breathe, puffs of white clouding the air.

Levi holds you close as his hips roll forward to settle on a cadence that matches your vices, his flushed cheeks pressing against yours. You hook your fingers, grinding into his touch—your mind edging towards complete absolution.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice decadent. "You're so. Perfect.”

His words cause something delicious to swirl within you.

Levi slings an arm around your back, the other hooking up one knee to position himself deeper, slipping out and back into your wanting heat. You watch as his lips press together like he were trying to contain back a moan, but it’s obscured by your vision blurring at the sensation of his length stretching you out.

With one traitorous jerk, your walls throb in pleasure, eyes brimming with tears as you stare at Levi’s pale skin and the snow mingling together. Your nails scratch his hips, leaving red marks on his soft, plush skin.

“Levi,” you plead.

Levi, what? You aren’t sure what you’re calling out to him for. You’re too forgone, too dizzy, to notice you used his first name, let alone find the words to finish that thought.

His back muscles go taut under your fingertips, his spine moving in accordion with the rolling of his hips.

More.

“Captain, please, please—.”

“Be patient,” he grits out. His tousled hair clings over his forehead, lips parting as your bodies merge into one. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, he pulls out of you and flips you over so that you’re on all four. He angles your waist up, one hand pinning your neck down, the other holding onto your hair, as he slides back in..

Then Levi moves down on you and bites your right shoulder—hard. Pleasures ripples through your body, feeling his mark on your skin.

"Color?" he asks, voice shaking.

"Ngh... green, so fucking green." You whimper, nails scratching at the soil. “Do it again."

And Levi only delivers, his bite turning to something strong enough to bruise as he thrusts into you.

You wonder what Levi looks like up there, gripping at your waist while the rest of your body curves face down. You wish you could frame a picture for yourself to stow away.

If you could see your Captain, you’d see that his eyes are trained on the sight of your naked body glistening with sweat. You’d catch him fixing his cock getting lost inside of you, your walls clamping around him. You’d see the way his eyes marvel at your curves—how your body blends with valleys of snow over the horizon. You'd see the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, burning the way you are.

A state of euphoria.

“F-f-fuck. I can't get enough of you,” you hear him confess.

Can’t get enough of you? Are you hearing him correctly? Since when does your Captain speak like that?

Still, his words seem to ignite something inside you, emboldened to see more of this side your Captain is revealing.

“Tell me,” you murmur, pleasuring building and building.

His answer doesn’t miss a beat, straightening up to pound into you harder. “You drive me crazy.”

Levi’s fingers dig into your flesh, something needy, something bruising, about his grip.

“Yeah? Then let me let you in on something, Levi… Captain, ah,” you mutter, eyes fluttering as he continues to fill you up. “The reason I came out here in the first place was because… ngh, I wanted to imagine your fingers touching me. Wanted to imagine it was you fingering me.”

“F-fuck,” Levi hisses.

He grips your hips with full-blooded vigor, siphoning into you with a quickened pace.

“Captain, I—”

But your words die out when three fingers find a place on your swollen clit. Your brain short-circuits.

Your orgasm splinters into the night.

You go boneless, sagging into pure bliss, while Levi continues to thrust into you. Feeling your walls clench so tightly, creaming his length, he follows soon after—the rushing heat of his climax answers your own, his pulsing cock engulfed by your heat.

And your brain? Your brain is numb.

For a moment, all the two of you can do is pant and attempt to regain your senses. One of Levi’s hand rests on the small of your back, while you slowly uncurl your fingers from the ground.

Eventually, Levi slides out of you. He uses the towel to help you clean up. You watch him go about it, mind still delirious, something almost coy about the way he handles the aftercare of your lovemaking.

When all is said and done, a comfortable silence fills the air.

It’s now well past twilight, and both of you only have a precious few hours before you’re back on the road.

Neither of you are particularly tired. You let your sore body slide back into the warm water with your Captain by your side. You watch the mountains slope down, elbows perked on the edge of the hot spring, basking in the utter peace that comes from this sort of silence.

You lean a cheek on your propped hand to watch him. A light breeze tousles Levi’s black hair, faint snow dusting the air. You count the scars twined on his torso, wondering about the story behind each one.

Maybe one day, your Captain might open up about each of them.

"Did it work?" Levi interrupts the trembling silence, watching as you draw circles over the smooth edge of the hot spring.

Your eyes circle around to meet his cloudy stare.

You raise a brow. "Did what work?"

"Did you stop thinking?"

You snort, recalling your pleading request. "Yeah. I stopped thinking. And... thank you, by the way."

Levi hums. There's another lull in the conversation, filled with comfortable silence.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that this should remain between us,” he says.

That makes you roll your eyes. “Aw, you wound me, Captain. Here I was hoping to gossip with everyone about the way you like to eat people out.”

Levi shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I’m not stupid, Levi,” you add.

Levi clicks his tongue. “No, just too fucking ballsy. Never knew your mouth ran so wild.”

You smirk. “Well, sorry to say, sir, but you’ve not seen half of what my mouth can do.”

You swear a a rosy hue dusts the ridge of his nose. “You're a shameless thing, you know that?”

You laugh, tilting your head sideways. “I told you. I know what I want.”

“Clearly,” he remarks, eying you. “And you’ve wanted this for a while.”

Despite having just had his face buried between your legs, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at that comment and the confession it demands of you.

“Never said that,” you dismiss.

“No? What were your exact words? That you—”

“Don’t repeat what I said!” you hiss, glaring at him. “It was in the heat of the moment. You can’t hold it against me.”

Levi grunts in an amused way, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, unsure how he might use this knowledge. You didn't think about any of it before, but where do you go from here?

Levi gives you that answer seconds later. He raises a hand to your face, tugging a strand behind your ear and swirling his thumb over your jaw.

“Well, next time you dream of my fingers, just come to me,” he says simply.

There’s an intensity in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before.

You go still.

Next time?

Is that a promise?

His thumb presses over your neck, feeling you gulp against his fingertip. Your stomach contracts in anticipation.

Oh, it is a promise.

You could get used to this new side of your Captain.

And then Levi retreats, eyes never wavering from yours, and bobs his head towards the chalet.

“Now to the shower, we’re not reeking come morning.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, soldier.”

You sigh.

There’s the Captain you’ve grown to like so much.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Spotify Playlist that inspired this fic Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me ~

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