#shut up levi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anlian-aishang · 5 months

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Hello, could I please request a Captain Levi X reader fic where he comforts a sick and injured reader please? Canonverse of course. I love your writing btw :)

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy, dear anon <3

Tags: levi x reader, fluff, canonverse, mutual pining, caretaking, broken bones + blood mention, reader is physically supported, platonic undressing/nudity, fem!reader Word count: 5800

Levi could not shake the feeling: had he been there, you never would have wound up like this. With that train of thought came a crash of regret, his one vow being to live without it. He could not turn back time and prevent the accident from happening, but there was one thing he could do to alleviate its aftermath.

Fresh off the return from the expedition, he had not even changed out of his uniform yet, Levi made straight for Hange’s office. “Put me in the infirmary tonight.”

Hange rolled their eyes and teased, “How about a hello or a please first, huh?”

“Hi, and please.”

Hange grinned, internally laughing for having expected anything more. “You got any good reason? Hurt or something?”

They already knew the answer to that. His grey shirt was just as ironed as it was before setting off beyond the walls. Not one wrinkle in his canvas coat. No rips in his cape. Certainly not injured.

“Or did you just want an easy shift?”

They both knew: only one person had ended up in the infirmary. They both knew: that one person was you. In a wordless, imbalanced eye contact, Hange communicated their knowledge of the nature behind his rare request. Levi communicated that if they uttered one word about it, they too would end up on the list of casualties.

“Yeah,” Levi spoke flatly, “that’s it.”

The section commander dipped their quill pen fresh, crossed out Nanaba’s name and replaced the assignment with his. “Consider it done, but you owe me!”

Levi merely scowled and promptly turned on his heel. Stewing in irritation yet also simmering in thought of how to repay them. Maybe some assistance with a titan capture, maybe just saving their ass again as he had countless times before.

With the captain’s back turned, Hange hollered after him, “You would save yourself a lot of time and trouble if you just asked them out, you know, like a normal person!”

But Levi had already shut the door and started down your way. Gritting his teeth, by subduing a smacking, he considered the two of them even again.

// // //

Though he had sped down the hallway, Levi dampened his pace as he approached the infirmary. At your door, a deep breath as his fingers delicately inched along the handle, just enough leverage to let himself in as quietly as possible.

Golden hour seared the white walls and placed a spotlight on the lone patient bundled in bed. Your lips were trembling. Your breaths were uneven. Your body was tired, bogged down by stiff casts and bandages. Levi felt his throat instinctively tighten. Fists clenched at his sides, aching to do something - anything - for you. To brush the strand of hair from your face, to straighten you from the entanglement of your sheets, but he was woefully aware that any movement carried the potential to wake you, and with the look on your face - he determined that unconsciousness was not a bad place for you to be.

Levi shuffled his boots across the wooden floor, cautious of how creaky the panels could be. Slowly, he lowered himself to a seat on the bed across from yours, nothing but a nightstand and temptation between. With a sigh, he tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, searching for ironic escape from the scene he had begged to be placed in, but instead - all he could picture was what must have happened to you out there. How had you ended up injured but no one else? Where were your comrades? Your squad leader? Where was he?

“Alone out there,” Levi pitied. The one who was always thinking of others - in their time of need - no one showed up for them. Again, Levi released an exasperated sigh. He was well familiar with how cruel the world could be. Every now and then, it still managed to surprise him. In your case, he supposed.

Come to think of it, the infirmary itself seemed in remarkably poor condition. Levi swiped his finger along the bedframe and scoffed at the dust that flew from his touch. At the allergen, he sniffed slightly, and through that noticed the musk in the air. Levi glared out the window and into the empty courtyard. A lovely spring evening you were both missing: budding trees, bloomed flowers… Flowers.

Levi surveyed your state, bargaining within himself for a handful of seconds. With no sign of your stir, he clutched the side of the mattress and hoisted himself to his feet. Despite the audible crunch of the comforter, you remained sound in sleep, silently granting your attendant permission to depart from your side - however temporarily.

At the door, he turned back once again: on one hand - anticipating that you would remain at rest so he could sneak out, on the other - hoping that you would call out to him, Levi, please don’t go. His knuckles turned white around the handle before swiftly departing, cutting himself off from overthinking any longer, at least for a little while.

// // //

It had only been ten minutes, but he swore he was going too slow. Picking all of the wildflowers he could find, he tucked them beneath his arm until he had assembled a makeshift bouquet. Just enough to flush out the hospital aura, but as his arm began to cramp, he realized there may never be enough when it came to you. Grateful to be outside, Levi waited out his blush before heading back inside.

This time, more hurried than when he first approached - the guilt of leaving you alone in there propelled his pace. Hastily, he flung the door open, causing your eyes to do the same.

“Shit…” Levi cursed himself as he watched your figure shift. Tiny groans echoed throughout the barren room as you came to. With a few harsh blinks, your vision adjusted to the scene. A stark but beautiful transition, dreamlessness to the stuff of dreams: Levi in the door frame, flowers in hand, overcast in the gradient of sunset.

“Am I … dreaming?” Your words made his heart halt, Levi clutched the stems a little tighter. Your angelic voice fresh out of sleep was suddenly seized by a sharp inhale, speech weakened, “My… my head…”

He may have said something, but you could not tell. Merciless ringing in your ears combined with the pounding at the back of your head, leaving you oblivious to everything external. You cupped your palm around your forehead and winced through clenched teeth. Atop your hand came his, fingers wedged in the spaces between yours. His contact was your answer: this was not a dream for not even in your most self-indulgent desires would you have come up with this.

His hand did not massage you, did not apply pressure, but reminded you of his diligent presence. Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ve got you. It was what he longed to say, what you longed to hear. As your inhales and exhales diluted, you both regained the composure to settle for less forthcoming words. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open and were met with those of solid steel, “Levi?”

Cracks in your voice, he swallowed for you, “You’re burning up.”

Your lips parted in confusion, hardly believing the scenario you were in. I thought… Nanaba… Why is he…? Levi read your questions and chose to ignore them.

He was conscious of it, but conscious not to mention it - the sweat that came off your skin and stuck his hand to yours. Instead, he paraphrased, “Don’t you feel hot?”

An autonomous response, you shivered, whether due to the temperature or a certain other factor. “N’No, I think I -” your speech was interrupted by a pair of violent sneezes - saying all he needed to hear.

Levi closed his eyes and frowned, silencing the germaphobe within him, “I see.”

Hiding behind your wrist, “Sorry.”

He reached into his chest pocket and lent you a handkerchief, “Don’t be.”

His gaze descended from your eye contact, granting an ounce of privacy. Now that you had sat up, he could see precisely the spot you had laid. A stiff indent on the pillow outlined your shoulders, nape, and head. Folds in the sheets likewise defined your stagnant sleeping pose. You hadn’t moved for hours. It prompted him to scan for more hints: your nightstand displayed no tissues, no tea. Levi stifled a disapproving sneer, substituting action for anger.

Levi’s fingertips grazed your comforter, “Your bandages…”

“Yeah…” a tinge of stuffiness in your voice, your movements staggered as you brought your limbs out from underneath your bedding.

Upon revelation, his eyes widened. Your right calf had been swallowed by a cast startlingly thick. Your right arm had been painted red by blood-soaked bandages. The sight made you lightheaded, nauseous, Levi caught it, “Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me.”

Your throat bobbed in nerves, anxious whimpers emitted. Over your frightened sobs, Levi ordered over them, “Look at me. Look at me.”

Past blurry eyes, you strained to follow his guidance. His steel gaze was dead set on your wounds. Lips remained their characteristic flat. Hands were gentle and stable in lifting your arm closer to him. Even as your blood soaked through to his skin, even as you cried in panic and pain, he showed no signs of rile. Observing his calm brought you closer to your own: infectious medicine.

“It hurts?”

“Y’Yeah.”

Slowly, Levi lowered his hold until your arm rested on the bed again. He stood and made his way to the cupboards. In your gaze, past the twitch of your eyelids, you caught the focus in his. Jaw set, near-silent rolls of pills as he picked up bottles and read them, knuckles white around the acetaminophen. A coughing fit snuck up on you, and by the time it was over, he was once again at your bedside. Effortlessly, he twisted the cap off, and poured two pills into his palm. With his left hand, Levi placed his thumb on the bulb of your chin and pushed down, tugging your lips apart. In his right hand, pointer finger and thumb pinched the capsule and perched it between your top and bottom teeth.

In his contact, you shuddered against him, yet his voice remained monotone, “Swallow.”

You raised your brows sharply, and at your sight, Levi realized how self-indulgent he was being. On the other hand, you were ignorant, too blinded by perplexion: the command of your captain and the tenderness of a husband. You sure this isn’t a dream?

Levi reached into his coat and pulled out his canteen, untouched from this morning’s expedition. Again, his eyes honed in on your lips as his reach began to approach you again. God, chills once again seized you, you weren’t sure you could take much more intimacy without - well, you weren’t sure what you would do. Squeal? Giggle? You didn’t want to find out, so instead, you stopped him. Hand cupped his container, fingertips grazing, you tried to ignore it and affirmed, “I’ll manage.”

Levi’s eyes briefly widened, the rest of him froze. “Right,” you idiot! He scowled and cursed himself. He thought your feelings had been mutual, but your refusal reminded him that he wasn’t so good at this sort of thing. With a heavy sigh, Levi left your side and strode to the other side of the room. A harsh, unpleasant drag of wood on wood echoed throughout the room - Levi pulled the chair out from under the desk and slumped on it. Arms crossed, gaze sank to his toes.

Now it was your turn to chastise yourself. Nice work, now he thinks you hate him. The opposite was true, but how were you supposed to convey that now? He could not have been further away, nerves in your shin reaffirmed: there was no chance your leg would walk you there.

Wordlessly, you both shared a simultaneous thought: Maybe Nanaba should’ve been here after all.

For some time, the two of you sat in silence. Levi thought about retreating to his room, but something kept him planted in that seat. Hange had already humiliated him enough today, they would have even more if he came back and asked to be relieved of the assignment he pled for. Then, there was the question of who would replace him. Some half-ass recruit? Even if he called on a fellow veteran, he was sure that the last-minute shift would impact their morale, and therefore, their performance. Even if his feelings were unrequited, it did not affect the fact that he cared about you - though it would have been easier if it did. Leaving you with someone other than him was unacceptable - in this context or others - Levi jut his heel against the ground.

Just a few meters apart from him, but you were in your own world. Your body ached, your muscles tired, but nothing was more painful than this silence. You thought about trying to sleep, but that attempt would be futile, for this quiet was too loud. Your heart longed to run to him, to throw your arms around him, to dip your lips to his ear and tell him you were sorry. Legs and fear damned that option. Powerless, you leaned back, crossed your hands at the wrists, and threw the X over your forehead. Resigned.

Inside and outside, “I feel gross.”

First, a side eye. Then, he turned his neck and shoulders. Even after you had shoved him away, Levi found it impossible to ignore you. Still, there was a lingering paralysis, a fear of letting himself go again. Invisible ropes reigned him in and kept him tied to humility.

You peeked out from under your hands, flickering eye contact made from across the way. Despite the distance, he could see the glaze of brimming tears, blurring your gaze. Lips quivering, both overwhelmed and let down, his name cracked in your throat. Levi could not hear it, but saw it in the weak motions of your mouth. His hands clutched the edge of the desk, fingers clenched, your call of his name released the last of his anchors. Swiftly, he crossed the room to stand at your side.

Blood caked to your skin. Sweat glossed over it. Gross was not what came to mind when he looked at you, but he could see why you felt that way. As for him, a shower was a necessity the second filth found him, but his lips stayed sealed. Something about recommending it to you made him feel even dirtier.

Levi kept his gaze averted, scanning the room. A metal bucket would keep the water hot. A stack of washcloths adjacent might feel nice. A thick roll of gauze, he glanced to the clock, it was probably about time to change your bandages anyways. He began to start towards them.

No, don’t leave me again.

Before you could think, your hand snapped to his wrist, drawing a startle and brow raise from your captain. A cough scratched its way up your throat, you snapped to the other side and leaned into the crook of your elbow, sparing him. With each cough, your hand twitched around his arm. Painfully pathetic. After the fit, your voice was left broken, throat sore, craving steam and humidity.

There was one way you could get that, sweetheart. One place.

“Wait, Levi…” your arm shook as it rose to point. Bathroom door on the other wall, “will you help me in there? I kinda,” you tried to speak past the impending tickle, “I think I want a - ah…” three rapid sneezes, you groaned in their wake, “ngh…”

Was it that each of your words was so obviously pained? Or was it his eagerness boiling over again? The interruption arrived before he could answer: “A bath?”

You sniffled away whatever irritant that was, and smiled sheepishly, “Sounds nice.”

Heart pounded in his chest, Levi swallowed his feelings down and replaced them with his reliable intuition. Grey gaze assessed your state. The injuries in your arm - you wouldn’t be able to hold onto him. The cast around your leg - he wouldn’t be able to hold you. Carrying you was not an option - not tonight at least - but otherwise, the venture should be possible. He just needed a little bit from you, he would shoulder your rest.

“Here,” Levi kneeled. Over the edge of the mattress, you looked down to see him awaiting. Inexplicable shivers were due to no cold. The solidity of his voice incinerated your wandering thoughts, “- alright if I?”

His arm gingered towards your back, and with it came a run back of that last interaction - the one you screwed up. You knew, you were lucky to get a retry. This time, you would make the choice you would regret the least, just like he’d want you to.

And he did.

Rather than cutting him off from you, you sewed yourselves together, leaning into his reach and leaning on him. Through bangs, Levi glanced up to you. Had you really just done that? Or was he again misreading things? You met his stare with a weak yet assured smile, cupping his shoulder. Understood, his hand curved to match your waist. Delectable.

“With me,” Levi ordered. As he began to rise, you did, too. Your left side put in overtime as your right side dragged without much use. His hand on your hip did most of the lifting - not only effortless for humanity’s strongest, but a hand he was happy to lend. Each time your balance threatened, you found that his grip cinched tighter. Buckling knees and selfish imagination longed to topple - the former for relief, the latter just to see.

You needed to get there. You needed to get there! You could have sworn that light was glowing from the outline of the door - a bath with Levi Ackerman - but it seemed the world had some stake in preventing your arrival. Pain shot through your side, you could not help but wince. Your high-pitched mewl fell upon his ear, making your shudders shared.

“C’mon,” Levi beckoned, the strength to your struggle, “you’re almost there.”

The edges of your vision turned blurry. The floor and the ceiling seemed to switch, or something? A painful ringing in your ears, his voice was the ice to soothe it, the sturdiness to silence it, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You blinked for long spells, it seemed to help the threatening headache. Cold ceramic on the backs of your thighs lured you out of that strategy. When your eyes blurred open, the harsh white of the infirmary’s bath had been softened by a handful of candlelit lanterns, a four-wall twilight. The sound of water flowing from faucet to tub, an indoor waterfall. Maybe it was the medicine speaking, but you could not have pictured a more romantic scene.

Levi shouldered off his tan coat, loosened his cravat, and rolled his sleeves to his elbows - you bit the inside of your lip, punishing the indulgence of your mind. Not romantic, you reminded yourself. Platonic, Levi settled.

The bath was filling. Water hot to the point of steaming: the mirror fogged, Levi’s cheeks tinged to red. You told yourself it was because of the room’s humidity. As he perched himself between your knees, Levi knew better.

Clothes off. “Alright if I -?”

One hand would be hard. “Will you help me?”

The two of you interrupted one another with shared sentiment. A slight twitch of his lip - a smile - and a nervous giggle from you communicated mutual consent. He started with the hem of your tee. Fingers curled beneath the bottom, and god, how he was going oh so slowly. So delicate, there were times you had to rely on your sight to tell if he was really moving. Eventually, the brisk air wafted upon your skin, providing goosebumps as evidence. Within your collar, Levi spread his fingers wide, allowing the elastic to slide over your head and face without too much friction. When it came to your wounded arm, he was especially focused. Surgical precision, the fabric did not even graze your skin.

However, now was the time. From the side of his hip, he unsheathed his pocketknife. A sharp shing! The blade razor thin, yet you were not the least bit scared. Even as he reached toward your fresh wound and slid the dagger between your bandage and forearm, somehow you knew he would not slip. After this long in the Regiment, he had learned some things about the psychology of first aid. Before you could think to panic, he had already sliced the wrap in two. Your gauze fell to the floor. Now, all that was left of your upper garments was your bra. Levi deliberately met your eye contact - this okay? You smiled and leaned forward, shortening the distance - I trust you.

There was something about the way he unhooked you, and there was something about the way you interpreted it. Not suspiciously swift - he must not’ve been with many girls before. Neither clumsy nor awkward - had he anticipated this moment for a while? The tension of your brassiere as well as the tension in the room diluted when he finally stripped you free. Your bare chest before him, you anticipated his stare, but it never came. Levi did not look, but at the same time, it did not seem that he was trying not to. The aversion of his gaze once again humbled your ego, maybe he just wasn’t into you like that. The truth was, sex just wasn’t on his mind. Life had thrown him enough cold stones, had sculpted him into a realist. Let down had tethered his reins, preventing him from lunging too far towards satisfaction.

Faced with your fragile state, your blood and bruises had his whole attention - more than the lips that longed to be kissed and the curves that yearned to be held again. Was it because he was a soldier that he could not care less about this opportunity? No, it was because his desires for you were far less shallow.

Levi wanted to see you smile, actually smile. He wanted to show you the world beyond the walls, but only once the titans had been eliminated. Eyes on you on every expedition, he resented the perpetual fear that snared you. So terrified of the near threats - even the potential of threats - that you could not see the beauty in distance. The horizon. Mirages. Mountains in haze and trees to the forests. They were out there, and he had brought you there, but as long as the world was a dangerous place, you would fail to enjoy them. An expression without worry, that was his desire, more than anything -

“Levi?”

Snapped from his daydream, your puppy-dog gaze brought him back down to earth. A bob in his throat, a silent swallow, “Right, sorry.”

Gently, he took your bra and flowered it on the bathroom countertop. Your starch white pants, now stained with blood and dirt. Fingertips sandwiched your button and its opposite flap, looping the metal circle out from within, his knuckles grazed your tummy on the way. Drag of your zipper, you twitched beneath his touch. Once again, he checked on you. To confirm your consent, you used your left leg to shift your lower half off the edge of the tub, granting him the space to remove your bottoms. Levi glanced up to you and gave a half-nod. Then, he gradually curled his grip beside your hips, beneath the fabric of both your canvas pants and cotton underwear. Unexpected, scratchy lace on its edges drew a shiver he nearly subdued. Likewise, his neatly trimmed nails slightly scraped your sides. With the two of you flinching at once, both of you were ignorant to the startle of the other.

Fabric bunched on his way down, he slid the loops off your ankles and over your feet. After dealing with the left side, he realized the problem of the right. Your cast so thick, there was no way it would fit through the sleeve of your pants. His thought process seemed to glimmer on the reflection of his blade. Its glare took hold of your peripheral vision.

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

Levi held the blade in his trademark backwards way, “I’ll get you -” not we’ll get you - “a new pair.”

With one hand, he held the bundle of canvas. With the other, he gave a quick nick at its top, just an inch past the thickness of where your belt would go. A jut of his wrist snapped the switch back under its protective case, Levi shoved the knife back into his leg strap. Two free hands grabbed each side of the cut and tore apart. A satisfying tear! Not as satisfying as the way his forearms flexed. Somehow, the movement of his muscles contracted with the still in his face and the lack of audible exertion. Purposed and effortless.

Your pants had been destroyed, yet still, he folded them neatly over his forearms - a perfectly symmetrical square. Levi draped your panties over your bra. While he fixated on the potential for wrinkles, your teeth began to chatter, nose began to tickle. Though you were glad to be out of those filthy clothes, the loss of warmth was beginning to affect you. Bundling into yourself, you ducked your head down and sneezed again - immediately garnering his attention.

Levi chastised himself for moving too slow, but did not loom. In this context and others, he preferred to rely on action. After a quick cuff of his sleeves at the elbows, Levi gestured his arms out to you, you lifted your reach toward him. By an arm at your back and one beneath your knee, he helped maneuver you into the bath, all without getting your cast or cuts into the water. Although, Levi bit the inside of his cheek, those scratches would have to be cleaned eventually. But for now, he could not bring himself to sever your bliss, let alone replace it with pain.

Hot, but not too hot. Scented, but not overwhelming. You tipped your head back and sighed. Singsonged breaths, your toes curled around the porcelain rim. The sight and sound of your satisfaction made his heart stop, his middle blaze, “Ah, that feels good…”

Levi balled his fists in his clothes, good god help me. He could practically see Hange laughing and teasing: Look what you got yourself into, Levi! Lips pressed together, a grounding throat clear. Maybe, selfishly, he should get your arm under the water after all.

He did not have to say anything, for you could feel his gaze searing onto your arm. You were impressed with his composure. In your eyes, just thinking about your wound was enough to make your stomach flip. Levi, on the other hand, seemed relatively unbothered. Looking back on this moment would bring you immense sympathy: what had he seen already that made this okay? Indeed, he had witnessed enough injury to accurately survey: the scratch was actually not as bad as the amount of dried blood suggested. Until he cleaned it, you would continue to shriek at your own sight.

You knew what had to be done, so don’t make me beg.

Your voice was quiet, sagged by reluctance. Your lip started to quiver, your throat seemed to close. No one enjoyed this sort of thing - shots, the dentist - but some things just had to be done. As long as he was here, it wouldn’t be so bad. It was how you tried to convince yourself, but despite his presence, your eyes began to burn, sobs began to simmer. Stuttering turned to blubbering, “C’Can you… C’an you…” Tears brimmed, you tried to speak past them, “H’Help m’me…?” You could not even manage the thought of voluntarily sinking your arm into the water, let alone the speech.

Thankfully, he read between the lines. Levi knew what he had to do. Fingers intertwined, you squeezed his hand hard. “You’re okay,” Levi assured, “I’ve got you.”

He lead the way, you went along with it. On your descent, despite his solid contact, you could not stop trembling. Levi used his other hand to graze the bottom of your chin, beckoning your gaze to meet his. “Don’t look at it, just look at me.”

Brows flat, eyes plain, Levi’s calm was contagious. You didn’t believe in yourself, but he did: “I know you can do it.” Who were you to object to your captain?

You can do this. You can do this. You -

Steaming, soapy water finally consumed your arm. The spot of contact managed to demand each of your nerves and diminish any ounce of composure. One leg pushed against the end of the tub, the other squirmed and snapped. You threw your head back over the rim with a scream that hurt your own ears. Levi did not shush you, only fierced his grip. His grounding technique brought you back a bit, just enough to substitute your high-pitched mewls for between-teeth hisses.

Pathetic, it was a word he used towards plenty of people, but when it came to you, it meant something different. Helpless - not weakness - in a way that pled for his assistance. When others acted like this, it irked him. And it wasn’t that he enjoyed seeing you like this, but the hold you had on him was confusing: how did this bother him so intensely yet make his heart do somersaults?

Levi chose to distract himself from his emotions and instead fixated on the twitches of your body. Some here, some there, but now starting to die down. Deep breaths, your chest rattled on exhale. As soon as you regained coherence and speech, you apologized, embarrassed, “Sorry.”

Levi knit his brows, you had nothing to be sorry for. If anything, he did. Sorry that he wasn’t there when you needed him to be. With each tear you shed and each strain of overstimulated muscles, he was painfully reminded that this could have - should have - never happened. Maintaining his hold of your hand, Levi took a washcloth from his back pocket, dipped it in the lather, and began to scrub your skin clean. Sorry that - “I wasn’t there,” at that moment, he swabbed a little harder, “what happened?”

It was as if he was trying to wipe away your layers and get to the bottom of today. Gentle at times, deliberate at others, he worked to massage an answer out of you. Reaching all the spots on your back, over the shoulders, the sides of your neck, the divot at your middle. Fingers woven, he leveraged his grip to lift your hand from the water and clean your arm. Levi pressed the cotton against your skin from the insides of your thighs to the tips of your toes. His arm aligned with your spine, reclining you backwards so that your hair could soak. Not too deep, as he tipped you back, Levi whispered, “Trust me.”

Throughout the bath, you remained quiet, though Levi could tell that you were not dosing him the silent treatment. Rather, you were still searching for understanding yourself. You sunk your gaze to the water below, hands kneaded beneath the surface, “It was my fault.”

There was no change in his movements, but his gaze snapped to you through sullen bangs, inviting you to ramble on. Ramble. “I was looking at another wing. A six… no… seven-meter abnormal.”

His brows arced, eyes to yours, That was my encounter.

Caught red-handed, your own admission, I know.

“And… in the distance, I could see - could see someone was fighting it.”

Me.

Yes, you.

“I got nervous. Startled, panicked… cinched the reins too hard.” It had happened in a second and was still so raw. Memory foggy, you tried to fill in your own blanks. “She must’ve thrown me or something. Stepped on my leg, I think?” With your blood washed away, you could finally bear to glance at your cut. “I remember being dragged, this must’ve been from the ground.”

Levi’s lips parted, struck by your story and a thousand ensuing thoughts. It was his fault after all. It wasn’t that he was too far away from you, it was that he was too close. In your sights, but wait. Why were you looking?

It was the last time that your eye contact began with uncertainty, but the first time that the two of you overcame your doubts. Through your story, you had all but confessed. Through his actions, Levi had, too.

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“You, too.”

When you were ready, you held out your hands. This time, far fewer check-ins were needed in the progression of your contact. Levi scooped your fingers in his palms, caressed and supported, he helped you out of the bathtub - your hands in his as he stood. Faced with his front, you noticed how his shirt had been soaked in the process, made more and more see-through as he bathed you. While he still refused to indulge himself in your appearance, you could not help but admire the symmetry of his abdomen and the new tightness of his top. Suddenly, your pain was flushed out and replaced with some other honey-like hormone. Was this the best medicine?

Levi kept one hand on you, there for balance, as he reached to the rack and unfurled your towel. Wrapped tight, he tucked the corner beneath your upper arm, allowing you to keep warm while he used a spare rag to dry the rest of your limbs - gentle and thorough.

You rolled your neck and shoulders, “I don’t have clothes here…”

Levi flicked his head to the side, “...and that bed’s filthy.”

“Hey,” you glued your pointer and middle finger together and pushed the middle of his chest, sighing, “I couldn’t help that.”

But he could now.

The next couple hours were another blur. In one arm, your dirty laundry. With the other, Levi supported your weight as you sneaked yet stumbled through new moonlit halls. You could not retrace the path to his room, but there were a few parts along the way that you could write novels about, could paint portraits of. The way his index finger crossed with the line of his lips, shushing your nervous laughs as you passed recruits’ barracks. The hush and haste in his voice. Bringing you to his bed and pulling the covers to your nose, why did he insist on taking the sofa? The answer to that question, you could not understand. The oceans in his eyes, you could not quite draw. The words that dwindled on the tip of his tongue, you could not quite pen.

But there were many more nights to get there.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi #levi ackerman #oneshot #fluff #2023 #requests #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #If you ever want a long fic from me #the secret must be caretaking #cause I will never shut up about it 🥰

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