Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You have dealt with a lot of difficult people in your military career. Most would say you have an impressive knack for it.

If you didn’t already have the rank of Squad Captain in the Scouting Legion, the title of babysitter would have been there for grabs. So many newbies have gone through your hands to get polished and eventually released on behest of the commander and his right hand man that you have at least one familiar face on every team there is.

You suppose the fault is yours for adopting something along the lines of a parental approach when it comes to the worst rascals, though at least you can say it works better than the commander’s authoritarian methods. Most graduates join way before their twenties, after all. They are still kids developing their own sense of judgment. You exercise discipline when it is needed. Not as the only resource available.

However, schooling silly, sixteen year olds isn’t nearly the same as being asked to rewire the head of an adult murderer; the loose canon of a man that was invited into the Survey Corps by none other than Section Commander Erwin Smith.

You are also made aware of the fact this person has the strength of a hundred men packed in a little over five feet of height. 

“And you want me to tame this thug because the death of his little gang wasn’t enough to incite a change of heart?” 

On the other side of the desk, Erwin completes his signature with a perfect curve at the end of his last name. He sets the quill aside to study you with his striking, blue eyes. His face, as per the norm, is an unreadable mask of passiveness. “Can you do it?”

You stand against the wall, holding your arms together over your chest. One leg rests casually over the other. “I could,” you reply like it isn't the big deal you made it out to be in the privacy of your thoughts. “But why invest time and manpower in him? Sure, he’s an interesting titan slayer, I’ll give him that much. Still don’t see how he’s worth the hassle. He could betray us in the future.”

“I just received a report on him from the expedition.” He places his elbows on the desk, chin propped on his intertwined hands. You recognize the excited flash in his eyes. “He has accumulated ten titan kills on this outing alone.”

“Funny how his human kill count is still three times that amount.” 

His lips gain an amused arch; it’s a charming smile that seeks to beguile. “I understand he’s unlike anything you’ve handled before, and that his talents could, in fact, put your safety at risk to a certain extent.”

A certain extent. You chuckle, glancing at the window behind him, where wall Rose can be seen towering over the landscapes. You’ve gone through numerous expeditions in your short time as a scout, but the feeling of unease is an obstacle you have to fight more often than not. The thug, despite having no prior experience, didn’t show a hint of hesitation in the face of those naked monsters. 

“You see something in him,” you conclude, directing your eyes back to him. “Don’t you, Erwin?”

He watches you intently. “I see an opportunity. The manpower we usually get within five years of cadet batches, we have found it in a single man.”

“That good, huh?” You peer down at your brown boots, noticing a blotch of mud on the tip that must have sneaked past you in the aftermath of yesterday's training. “I don’t mind dealing with him. What I don’t want is for the safety of my squad to be compromised.” 

“I have no doubt you will have made considerable progress before the date of the next expedition.”

You crack a smile from a single side, positively entertained by his faith in your skills. “Six weeks, huh?” You can work within said span of time. Erwin is a very perceptive man and you have reason to believe whatever qualities he sees in that thug ought to be proven eventually. “Very well, Erwin. I accept.” You’ll trust him as he trusts you. “He can be temporarily welcomed in my squad. What was his name again?” 

The smile Erwin tugs up is grateful and soft, but with a huff you brush it off as just another stunt in his show of persuasion. 

“His name is Levi.”

-

Only a couple of hours later, you’re already regretting a lot of things. 

“What is going in here?” You barrel through the crowd of soldiers gathered in a corner of the mess hall, unable to see past the many heads peeking at the scene. The panicked cry that follows would make anyone think Kenny the Ripper stood in the flesh. 

Your gut feeling already has a fair clue of who might be involved, though. 

True to your intuition, at the center of the circle stands the infamous man of spunk twice his size. His couple of dark eyes, sharp as the knife he aims at the throat of a soldier, glare through curtains of black hair. The tight clutch of his teeth mars what could very well be an attractive face.

The man on the receiving end of the blade might have already pissed his pants, if his expression is anything to go by. You step in front of him, acting the part of a human shield, and lock stares with the thug. “I don’t feel like you’re properly thinking your actions through, soldier. What good can this spectacle do? You’ll wind up getting kicked out if this continues.” The sound of your voice is leveled and respectful, yet Levi leers back with fiery steel in his eyes, as if you were the embodiment of a threat ready to pounce. You spot the knife in his tight grip and put your hand out to beckon with your fingers. “Where did you get that? Hand it over.” 

The young man standing behind you leans his head out to the side. “He’s a psychopath who should be locked inside a ward, Captain.” The steadiness builds in his voice, and a sense of superiority returns at your expense. “What is Section Commander Erwin even thinking? He has no right to be here.”

“Silence.” Your command resonates across the room. “How about you learn to pick your fights instead of making others come in to save your hide? I doubt he walked up to you with a knife for the hell of it.” 

The man is shaken out of his smug demeanor. “C-Captain, he’s a criminal!” 

“I’m not justifying his actions. I’m telling you to know which fights to pick. You know he’s a wanted murderer. Don’t breathe anywhere near him. Scolding him is a job for your superiors. You have no business telling him what he is or isn’t.” Steady eyes sweep over the surrounding faces on their way back to Levi. “The rest of you return to your post. The time you should have used replenishing was wasted spectating a childish feud. I hope you last until your next meal.”

As the crowd withers away, you stop Levi before he can make a step. “Not you, soldier. We’re having a talk.” 

Your command falls on deaf ears. He shuts you out by turning away, and you glare at the wings of freedom on the back of his uniform jacket while he walks off, settling on the thought that he will have to earn the symbol  for him to continue wearing it. 

His shoulders are small in width, and his waist as well. He’s much shorter than the average male. No friends, no future and nothing to his name save for the audacity of carrying himself like the building is his property. 

You raise the volume of your voice so it reaches him. “I take it you weren’t told, but you’re under my temporary command moving forward.”

You know he hears, but he doesn’t acknowledge you’re even there. 

Niceties aren’t grabbing his attention, but the approach that makes him turn a knife at people might. “If it’ll get you to stop brooding like this, I think I can spare a couple of tears for you.”

“Piss off,” you hear his voice for the first time, giving you a peek into the depth it holds. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be pitied. Poor Levi has been through a lot. We’re supposed to understand that and let you be, right? What would your friends think if they saw you like this–?”

You lift your chin, barely missing the touch of his knife. Levi holds it steady, eyes glittering among the shadows his long bangs cast. His frown is dense, plastered on his face with the weight of deadly experience. He incites in your body the urgent need to back away, but you force your legs to stay in place. 

“You wouldn’t agree to a formal conversation with me,” you explain. “Are insults the only way to grab your attention? You like to do things the hard way, huh?”  

“You'd be wise in knowing better than to tempt me while you're in your position,” he mutters, laden with specks of breathiness that sneak out of his control.

You will yourself to remain composed. “And throw away the only chance at a future that you have?” 

“This place isn’t my future.”

“So you choose jail. Makes perfect sense.”

His upper lip twitches. It takes him a second too long to come up with a reply. “You don't want to piss me off,” he sneers.

You push out a minuscule huff that sounds like a chuckle. “You can’t even come up with a decent reply.”

“I’m warning you–”

“Because you know that everything I’m saying is true.”

“–woman.”

“You’re miserable and you’re looking for pity.”

He forces his arm into the hollow of your neck, knocking you into the edge of the nearby table. A layer comes off from your eyes when they find his look of murder. Levi makes your personal space his own domain, the tip of the knife nudged into your skin. The silence that befalls the room rings loud in your ears, reminding you that everyone went away on your command. 

“You don’t know shit about me,” he growls under his breath.

“You don’t know shit about me either.” 

“I don’t need to. You're the same as him.” He pushes his arm in. “You and that blond bastard think you always know better. I can’t stand anyone here. Damn you all. You don’t know shit about me.”

Finally, you see a crack in his demeanor. He’s, of course, mourning—no surprise in that. There’s deep hatred stored inside him, hatred he places on the Scouting Legion because hating himself isn’t enough. 

You’re done torturing this troubled soul. He needs an outlet. 

“You and me, soldier,” you say. “To the fields. One on one.”

The push of his frown lightens a fraction you can only take notice of in your proximity, but he is quick to narrow his brows in once more, delivering a silent threat with the grip he adjusts on the knife. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I will snap you in half.”

“So I hope you have the balls to do it in front of a crowd.” You nod to the exit. “On you go, soldier. And leave the knife on the table on your way out.” 

With a final shove to settle you in place, Levi walks off, his glare being the last part of him to turn away from you.

“Leave the knife,” you remind him.

He tosses it on one of the tables without halting his step. 

Good grief, quite the mess you have agreed to. Levi is coming for your neck, thinking you'll be taking it seriously when, in reality, it's not your intention to hurt him. You highly doubt you could inflict a scratch if you wanted to, though. 

Most of the legion wanders outside of headquarters. A squadron in the middle of the field trains physical endurance. The group standing on the outskirts of a grove of trees have their ODM gears at the ready. Another team lingers by the stables, likely the new batch of recruits testing their horse riding skills. 

You’d rather do without humiliating yourself in public, but the extra pairs of eyes are essential to keep him accountable for whatever happens to your life. Levi's talk has actual bite, and he has proven that before. 

Others are quick to catch on to the situation, and soon enough the nearby stares are quietly peeking over shoulders towards the spot you and Levi have chosen for your confrontation. Murmurs fill the air, among them you hear comments about your less than properly thought-out idea. 

“Girl! What the hell?” Hange’s screech is a beacon of noise in the distance. They shove past shoulders on the way to you. “Have you lost a couple of screws? What are you doing? Erwin asked you to tame him, not provoke him.” Having reached your side, they smack your arms to hold you in place. 

“Come on, Hange,” you say, incredulous, while shrugging your jacket off. “Do you really think I'm that petty?” 

They push their glasses up the bridge of their nose, which had slid down during the sprint. “So you have an actual plan? As long as you don’t lose a limb...”

When you hand over your jacket, they grab it without question. A nervous chuckle vibrates quietly in your throat as you glance to the front. 

Levi stands on his side of the field, legs spread to the width of his hips. The jacket and white cravat around his neck stay on and instead, he waits with his arms crossed, looking every bit ready to bring upon you your imminent doom.

You sigh. “Tab the hospital bill on Erwin if anything happens.”

Hange pats your back. “As broke as we are? You’re landing in a public hospital.”

“Such good comrades you are.” You pop the first button of your shirt open, the ones on each wrist as well, but you don’t roll the sleeves in. “Levi.” You strengthen the volume of your voice so it reaches him. “Be a man and don’t hold back.”  

Hange gawks at you. “You’ve lost it.” Then they backtrack, joining the small circle of prying scouts in the distance. 

His glaring eyes embody seething hatred. If looks could kill, you have a feeling you’d already be a pile of broken bones on the floor. 

A dozen seconds pass without movement from either side, and given your urge to end this fast, with nerves of steel, you lead the first attack. Levi holds himself on bent knees, fists raised protectively over his face in wait of your arrival. 

Your first strike doesn’t travel far before it’s stopped. Fist in his grasp, Levi retaliates by sweeping his leg, which you see coming with barely half a second left to dodge. 

A sudden breathlessness comes with the rush of adrenaline in your body. You duck away from multiple attacks, block some hits when they're close to your face, and very seldom do you try to punch back, already knowing it’d be wasted energy on Levi. Your priorities lie elsewhere.

Sweat rolls down your temples in beads and you aren’t given even a microsecond to wipe your forehead. That’s the extent of your margin of error. A microsecond is all it would take for your face to get scrambled out of proportion. You can’t afford to waste energy or thoughts on anything that isn’t dodging the next fist. 

The ire on his face has simmered down to sour interest. He likely didn’t expect you to last longer than a minute. You’re scraping by, but you’re lasting nonetheless. 

“Don’t be scared of punching a superior officer, soldier.” Your words stumble on shallow breaths. “No one will hold it against you.”

“You can barely keep it together,” he scoffs, voice carefully even. Other than his bangs being damp with sweat, he’s breezing through the fight. 

“So what? Fact of the matter is you’ve yet to hit me. So do it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You push a breathless laugh, dodging another swing. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Hit me. Or do I need to spell it out for you? Don’t be a wuss.” 

The brawl turns one sided with Levi driving you a step back one swing at a time. You’ve given up on fighting, choosing instead to focus strictly on defense. “What’s that?” you taunt. “Still can’t hit me? Are you sure you’re giving it your all?”

“Stop talking, damn it.” He pauses to whisk his head. Drops of sweat fly off from his dark bangs. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

The break was much appreciated, but it’s short lived. Levi resumes, and both of you notice that your agility starts to decrease. 

“Are you even trying?” he asks. “What’s the point of dodging if you won’t make a move on your opponent?”

Your voice shudders under the heavy press of your breaths. “Nothing you should concern yourself with. Just hit me.” 

He growls through his teeth. “You’re not making any sense. What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Might as well call that a win for me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Hit me,” you encourage, arching your back to duck just before he can punch your nose. You straighten up, then, “Hit me.”

“Fuck, woman.” His free hand flies for your face in the wake of his failed attack, knuckles drilling into your jawline. 

Your ears ring, your skull rattles; you careen with the momentum of his punch, stumbling on your feet as you struggle to deal with the mush of images fogging your eyes. 

Ignoring the cries of your bones, you return to a dignified stance, blank canvas for eyes as you prod your jaw. Slowly, your ears catch on to the sounds around you. Most of them come from the murmurs of the crowd. 

Levi remains defensive, coiled in and positioned to attack again if need be. 

“Well,” you sigh. The adrenaline drains out, leaving rocks in place of muscles across your system. You fight the innate feeling of dropping dead on the floor. “Are you better now?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Punching your feelings out on me without repercussions sounds like a sweet deal if you ask me.” You spread your legs and lean on one side, masking your unbalance behind a casual pose. “Didn’t that feel liberating?”

He bites the air in search of a retort but gets none. 

You huff quietly through your nose. “I will forget this if you agree to cooperate from now on. We can start over from scratch.” 

The shock only lingers for so long. A frown edges back into his face as he clicks his tongue. “You’re a strange woman.” The comment isn’t shot with spite. It sounds more like an observation.

Depriving you of the chance to say anything back, Levi takes his leave, opening a path through the crowd with the work of his glare alone. 

You don’t know what to make of the outcome, though considering it's Levi from the underground, you’re inclined to assume the results were rather promising.

He isn’t much different from the rest; just a troubled individual that doesn't know how to react in the face of problems. You'll handle him like you've done the others. 

It’ll be alright. He’s... 

-

... a fucking pain in the ass. 

“Just perform the damn salute, soldier,” you say, sounding as exhausted as you look, so done with his shit. You aren’t even trying to be nice anymore. “Seriously, just close a fist and put it on your chest. It’s not that hard.” 

A beautiful morning inside the privacy of your office was brought to an end when Commander Keith Shadis barged in. Levi hates him the most, you've realized, and he doesn't budge in the face of his reproof, triggering the commander to a point where he had to scream his frustrations out on you. 

Needless to so be said, the visit destroyed what could have been a peaceful morning. You pulled Levi from his activities for a private talk behind the building, leading to what you think might be the tenth pep-talk of the week. 

Levi crosses his arms and looks away with petulance. “I have no respect for that man and I’m under no obligation to salute.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Yes, you are. You’re wearing our uniform, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Him with his sunken eyes on a fucking skull of a head and all,” Levi continues muttering like he didn't hear you speak. 

You watch him with an incredulous stare, creases forming between your brows. “Soldier, that point is irrelevant.”

“I can't take him seriously when he could easily pass for decoration in a funeral.”

You run your nails all the way to the back of your scalp. “Quiet. He’s the Commander of your legion.”

“I’d be inclined to give respect a try if he showed even the slightest concern for the dumpster we live in.”

You shrug with heavy emphasis on your shoulders. The scornful expression on your face reads ‘too bad!’. “Try aiming for the MPs if you want a bigger building.”

“I don’t mean that, dumbass.”

Driving your forefinger in his direction, low on the register, you warn, “Watch it–”

“I’m talking about basic hygiene.”

“–I’m your superior.”

He continues to ignore you. “You have no standards around here.”

“Fine.” You push away from the wall, leaning back into the balls of your feet. 

Years of experience dealing with all kinds of douchebags has done nothing to turn the tides in your favor, and it's a shame how fast you have given him the advantage. Even his stupid comments have started to get on your nerves. 

You stalk off towards the shed where most of the equipment is stored away, nodding at him to come over, and given his eagerness to ditch the morning drills, Levi follows without a peep. “You want standards? Set them yourself through example.” You push the door, and with effort, it slides open. The dust that rises triggers a cough. “There’s a broom over there and some cleaning supplies. You must be so eager, hm?”

That was in jest. To your surprise, Levi proves that he is indeed eager to clean the shed, and the results less than thirty minutes after are nothing short of jaw-dropping. Victory is bittersweet, considering he was supposed to have a hard time and instead it’s like you rewarded him for behaving the way he does.  

You're losing control and it's infuriating. 

Nothing has worked. You've been nice, you've been tough, you tried a parental kind of approach, which only got him to bark 'stop acting like a mother'. You let him punch you and have yet to receive a thanks for it. You tried an approach that was slightly more informal, but neither did it give you results. 

You’ve dealt with difficult people before. Levi is another breed. You don’t know how else to handle him, and you’re desperate. 

Shit, he made you desperate. You. He cracked you open when it should have been the other way around—the little street rat. 

You refuse to put up with this any longer. 

Come nighttime, you bring Levi in for a talk.

Not even a step inside and he's already scrutinizing your office, running fingers over shelves as he moves for the couch. You nearly explode when he shakes his head as if there is something wrong and doesn't have the decency to explain his actions. 

When he sits, a cup of tea waits for him on the small table. He spreads his fingers around the rim and tests the first sip. 

Across from where he is, you stay on your feet, fighting the twitch of a satisfied grin. 

‘Levi and tea are like dogs and bones, cats and catnip!’ Hange explained earlier. Your intel served you well.

You lean against your desk, folding your arms. “Levi, I called you here because our dynamic needs to change. We aren’t getting anywhere like this. Just being a nuisance to each other.” 

Muffled into the cup, “I never asked you to bother” sounds serene. Work of the tea, no doubt.

“Regardless of how we feel about each other, I have orders and so do you. Come on, Levi, don’t you have any interest in belonging somewhere?” You hold his eyes when he looks up. They’re unreadable, but he's finally listening so maybe something about your words interested him. “Might as well make that ‘somewhere’ here.”

He lowers the teacup enough to give you a view of his whole face. “How about you stop meddling in my business for a change?” 

It’s like talking to a wall. 

Stay cool, you tell yourself. Stay cool.

A quiet sigh takes most of the tension out. You place your gaze on him again. “If you don’t care about the Survey Corps, why are you still here?”

“For reasons unrelated to you.”

“Well, guess what? Erwin placed me in charge. And don’t get me wrong. In no way am I interested in your past or what your baggage is, but this whole charade of you brooding and threatening others has made me think you do want the attention, because if you didn't, you would spare us the theatrics.” 

He sets his jaw, and the muscles surrounding it protrude. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off?” You pounce away from your desk and make a beeline for the couch. Your voice has considerable weight the next time you speak. “We’re in my office, you inconsiderate, dramatic, piece of shit.” You lift a leg and stomp down right beside his head, disregarding the future stains on your couch. Levi shrinks in your shadow, moveless even as you grab his chin between your thumb and index. “I’m done with niceties and empathy. You’re an adult, for fuck’s sake. I’ve met sixteen year olds with better emotional awareness than you. Do yourself a favor and grow the hell up. Or would you rather I spank you like the fucking crybaby you are?” 

In your ire, it takes you a moment to note the state Levi is now in. For the first time since you’ve met him, the habitual frown has fully washed off, leaving a face several years younger. So bad was his constant glaring that even the color of his eyes looks different: silvery, something like the bluish aura that surrounds the moon. 

Now that the fury has simmered down, you come to realize the dangers of your impulsive reaction. Easily, Levi could have countered–break your arm or pull out some weapon from his boot to chop your head off. For him to remain still can only mean two things: he isn’t carrying any weapons, though that wouldn't have stopped him from catching you in a chokehold, or he has never experienced being put in his place by anyone, much less a female. 

“What’s this little gold mine?” You grin. The airy sound of your voice wakes him out of his stupor. “Does the opposite sex make you nervous?” 

He puts his attention on some random spot in the room. A frown is unsteady on his face, more bashful than angry. The seconds tick away like this; you on top, him silent. 

Eventually, he clears his throat. “Whatever, sorry, alright?” With effort, he moves his eyes back to yours. “Sorry,” he repeats in case you didn’t hear him the first time. “Get off now. This is ridiculous.”

You slither a quiet ‘ha’ through your lips. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You lean away, dropping your leg on the floor. The stain on the couch doesn’t look too bad. 

When you settle your attention back on Levi, it’s your turn to be stunned. You wish the candlelight wasn't so close to his face, washing him in a yellow glow. An hour earlier, while the sun was still out, and you would have been able to tell whether or not the flush on his neck was actually there. 

But you may have discovered the way of the devil to win over the starving street rat.

Chapter Text

“Girl!”

You know it’s bad when the familiar call makes you hope it’s one of the titan rants you used to avoid like the plague, so long as you don’t hear the next Levi shenanigan. 

Halting your step, you stick a groan behind your teeth and turn back. “Hey, Hange.” You sound deflated, expecting the worst. 

Your friend skates to a halt a feet away from smashing head-first into you. It’s like they don't know how to administer their energy. You flinch when they smack your shoulders. “How did you do it?” they inquire, pupils the size of tiny peas in their widened eyes. “What kind of dark magic did you apply?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean Levi, of course!” Hange bellows to your face, moving without resistance when you guide them a couple of steps back, much too wildered to have awareness of anything that isn’t the conversation. “He woke up a new man or something! Rebirthed! Evolved! A whole new species!”

Interest caught, you chuckle. It hasn’t been 24 hours since you put him in place. Of all the possible news, only in your wildest dreams could you have expected a positive outcome this soon. “What did he do?”

“It’s more about what he didn’t do!” Hange exclaims, jerking their arms around, you figure as a means to expel energy. “Levi heeded the morning call without having to get his ass dragged outside. He didn’t insult anyone today, didn’t ignore when someone was talking to him; he didn’t salute Keith, sure, but he went along with a lot of things.” 

You’re pleasantly stunned. The corner of your mouth twitches up with self-satisfaction. “Really now?” And it only took a week of trial and error. Only took one kind of approach. Who would have thought it’d incite in him any kind of effect that wasn’t punching a hole through your teeth? “That’s good to hear.”

“What did you do?”

Indeed. What did you do? 

Chuckling, you settle with, “Let’s call it dark magic, as you said.”

The process of getting Hange off your back could have taken all day if their second in command, Moblit, had not intervened. The report Hange receives appears to be of enough interest that they agree to depart right away, vowing you’ll be figured out later. 

Unbothered, you choose to heed the calls of your curiosity, heading out for no other reason than to witness the miracle Hange brought to your attention. The mess call will be given soon and you plan to at the very least catch Levi during the dismissal. 

The scout handling the platoon is Squad Leader Ness Dieter, a recent addition to the title he now holds. He isn’t a close acquaintance of yours. Your target demographic does not involve the well-mannered and disciplined after all; but you’ve seen the white bandana he wears moving about on horse during expeditions and can vouch for the promise he holds as a worthy asset to the Legion. 

Among the ruckus that takes place as the soldiers scurry to organize themselves, you find Levi carrying himself to a place in the back corner, the furthest away from Dieter’s line of sight. You stay by the building to avoid detection, not wanting to risk influencing Levi’s behavior.

Dieter’s dismissal is a muffled noise in the background. Your attention follows Levi, who compared to his peers is several levels more slack in posture. You’re surprised he’s even mimicking the proper stance of a soldier. 

Fists find a place over the chest in what is known as the official military salute across the three regiments. Dieter walks through the formation while the scouts maintain their position and then stops in front of Levi as if already knowing what to expect.

Restless, you lean on your toes, prepared to sprint if it comes down to it. 

The following seconds get lost in a staredown that is witnessed by the cautious eyes of those nearby. 

Your lips part with an excited breath when Levi, although begrudgingly, touches his chest with the proper hand. It’s done in a lazy fashion, the other arm hanging behind him, but you slide a victorious fist through the air because every scrap of progress counts.

You stride forward, looking to meet Levi in the middle as the group is dismissed. Those who walk past you offer a respectful greeting on their way back to headquarters, and after you’re done acknowledging a few, Levi is staring back from a distance when you meet his eyes again. 

Arms crossed, showcasing indifference, Levi steers in your direction and comes to a stop in front of you. Mild curiosity flashes in his gaze; he finds the curve of your lips for a short moment before flitting them up to your eyes. “What?” he asks in a fashion that tries to express the opposite of interest. 

“You’ve impressed quite a few people today,” you explain, delighted, “including me.” 

Levi clicks his tongue, looking away. He shields himself behind a frown that still displays yesterday’s imperfections. You recognize the same timid reaction that kindled to life when you broke into his personal space. “Don’t exaggerate,” he grumbles. “I haven’t done anything special.”

“I always give credit when credit is due, and today your actions spared me a visit from the commander.”

He huffs, slightly amused. “He’s been coming to you every time? I might be inclined to apologize for that.”

You push a breathy ‘hah’ to the sky. “Oh, pretty one. I have a mental tab for every apology you owe me that I will bill you for later.”

It’s like something short circuits in his brain and needs time to be rewired. The following question comes out muttered. “What did you just call me?”

With another laugh, you brush it off. “As I was saying, bear in mind that whatever efforts you’re making aren't going to be ignored. I’m keeping a close eye on you.” 

Levi looks thoughtful as he hums, adding nothing else. You pivot on your heels, about to wave goodbye before he stops you. “Wait.” 

Curious, you turn back so your profile barely faces him. “What is it?” 

Levi pins a small grunt in his throat like he's already regretting the action. He stalls in silence, moving his gaze across the patio while you stand. Your show of patience eventually motivates him to take the plunge. “What was that tea you offered yesterday?”

Crooked lips give a face to the thoughts brewing inside your head. “Tea that was worth a month of my salary. Don’t worry, soldier, though you may lack the income to get it yourself, I feel lenient enough to bless you with another cup.” You raise a forefinger, urging him to jerk back lest it grazes his nose. “That is if you finish the day the same way you started it.”

His surprise stays tame. “What are you saying?”

You cut the distance between you and reach out to fix his cravat, eyes trained on the action. “Behave.” You tip your chin up and are met with a frown standing on its last hinges of support, his bluish greys swirling with the most life. “Think you can do that much?”

No words leave him the first couple of seconds, and then his mouth parts. “Why are you doing this?” 

He doesn’t elaborate, but you know well what he means. Hands slithering to the fringe of his jacket, you close them into fists and pull him forward another inch. What was left of the scowl on his face thaws until he’s bare and helpless. 

“Because you’re letting it work,” you say, and let the moment stretch so you can bask in the rare sight that is Levi being speechless. 

Once you’ve gotten your fill, a solid shove along with a pat on his shoulder sends him on his way. “Off you go now.” 

It’s hard not to laugh. Levi walks away like he had been programmed with the order, unable to say anything back. You watch him disappear inside the building, and before you can head back yourself, the sound of your name beside your title halts your step. 

A young scout approaches to inform you that Erwin awaits you in his office. It’s likely he’s after a report on your progress. 

You get there right away, and he answers to the knock on his door, welcoming you in. 

The office is a near replica of Erwin’s character every time you enter. It’s organized, elegant, balanced at the mid-point between simplicity and saturation, though none of the portraits or furniture fill the space as much as the bookshelves on every wall.  

Rather than taking a seat on the chair before his desk, you sprawl your arms on its backrest. “Section Commander.”

“Greetings, Captain.” He sets a stack of documents down. The expression he carries seems pleased, mirroring how you have felt since Hange approached you with the good news about Levi. “I take it you already harvested some results? At least that’s what little I understood from Hange’s rambles.”

“Slowly getting there,” you chuckle, visibly delighted with yourself, “but that isn’t the main reason you called me here, I’d wager.”

“Are you aware the monthly examination takes place tomorrow?”

You spread a hand over your eyes and groan. “Not the MPs again.”

The Military Police is the most corrupted branch inside the three walls. If there’s any legion in need of ‘monthly revisions’ as they call it, it’s them for all of the wrongdoings you have no doubt they hide in their headquarters. The most they get done during their visits is harassing every unlucky scout that crosses their path to cover for the time that would be wasted examining the place because even they know there’s absolutely nothing to unveil. 

“Want me to lock our little street rat in the shed?” you offer, aware that he has undergone years of tension with the MPs in his time underground. 

He tilts half a smile up. “That would be a quick and painless escape…” 

“But?”

“Commander Nile hasn’t been pleased with my decision to take Levi in.”

Your chest falls on your arms as you bend your elbows. “What’s it to them? We’re the ones dealing with his attitude.”

“I’ve been told he has committed atrocious acts on multiple MPs.”

“No surprise there.”

“Legally, he’s been absolved of his crimes, but I’m afraid the MPs will not settle for that outcome anytime soon.”

“They want to get more dirt on him,” you conclude.

“Correct.”

“Then why not lock him in the shed?” It began as a joke, but the longer you entertain the thought, the more reasonable it sounds.

“They proposed the idea of using these monthly visits to oversee Levi’s behavioral progress.” Erwin picks at the black feather of his ink pen, occupying his hands with something as he considers different possibilities in his head. “The General agreed, of course.” 

With a long hum, you get a grasp on where this is leading to. “So it’s not about hiding him as much as showing him off.” Except he’s not in the stages to be shown off. “What do you want me to do?” Not that you believe there’s much to be accomplished in half a day’s time.

“There is nothing we can do, sadly, but to lessen the damage to the extent possible.”

“Okay…” Your best guess is that Erwin wants you to encourage Levi’s cooperation somehow. He’s leaving it up to your methods, and little does he know, you have one in the makings tailor-made for Levi. “Very well,” you add, more certain than before. “Leave it to me.”

Your vagueness is hooked on the desire to keep this very perceptive man in the dark. It’s a given that he catches on to something, if the glint in his blue stare is anything to go by, but no elaboration is incited. 

With only so many minutes to go before the mess call ends, you hurry to the common area for a tray of food. 

The place is crowded, blocking how far your gaze can travel in search of familiar faces. You don’t recognize anyone on the nearest rows of seats. It’s likely that your peers have taken a table in the back. 

Time is scarce and any spot will have to do, even if you end up intruding in a private conversation between people you don’t normally interact with. 

Lo and behold, you find Levi first. The only aspect saving him from being a sad portrait is the dignity that never leaves his side. 

The refinement of his behavior goes hand-in-hand with improving his skills of interaction, though you are quick to realize simply from watching him glare at every person who so much as peeks in his direction that Levi’s social life is a matter of holy resurrection at this point. 

You’ll turn a blind eye to your personal policy of not joining underlings at the table this one time. Witnessing the formidable thug in a civilized one-on-one might help sensitize Levi in the eyes of his peers.

Settled on a decision, you make the journey to the lonesome corner in the hall and set down your tray across from him, taking the first of plenty of free spots available on the long bench.

Instead of showing gratitude, his sharp gaze narrows. “What now?”

“Nothing. Just thought I’d come here and make you look less pitiful.” The words sound casual as you grab your cup of water. He will be invited to your office after sunset, where the matter with the MPs will be discussed. Right now, you’re more curious to know if he’ll manage to get through the day for the cheap price of another sip of your tea. 

“The sentiment is unnecessary.”

“Alas…” You shrug, setting the cup aside. “I’m here. How are you going to make friends if you don’t interact with anyone?”

“It’s not something I do.”

“I’m afraid you don’t sound as cool as you might think.”

Levi watches with disinterest as you use a fork to toss the mashed potatoes around the plate. His arms cross over the edge of the table, bringing his body forward. “What’s the point?” he grumbles. “Anyone here is bound to die sooner or later.”

You prolong a stunned “woah”. Food trickles from the fork you stop midway to your mouth. “Have I accidentally opened a can of worms? Is that really what’s keeping you from any sort of interaction?”

“I’m done with this talk.”

“Levi.” The sound garners enough power that it pulls his attention from the wall he thought would be more interesting to look at. “You can’t live your life around death. It’ll stop you from doing a lot of things throughout the years.” 

He studies you in silence, rotating his attention between both of your eyes. “You’re talking as if death scared me.”

“Not yours, I’m sure.” You push the tray aside, no longer interested in its contents. “But the death of others seems to scare you.”

His stoic display turns cautious. “You said you didn't care about my baggage.” 

“In the sense that I’m not looking for gossip.” You prop your elbow over the table and lean into the palm of your hand. “Just trying to give you some advice.” 

“Unnecessary.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab your tray and stand. “Whatever you say, soldier. I’ll be leading this afternoon’s session. Don’t forget the talk we had earlier. Behave and you’ll get your prize at the end of the day.” 

“I’m not a dog.”

With only laughter to give back, you take the small gleam of life you had given to the table on your way out. 

-

“What the hell, Levi?” The words come out among tired breaths because there's no energy left to help you sound as pissed as you feel. Seated at the desk, you run your nails down your scalp, trying to numb the terrible headache with another type of pain. 

“He sought it out. Bastard botched my ODM on purpose.” The firmness of his answer lets you know he has yet to regret the ruckus that came up when he struck a fellow peer over a heated argument. Levi only responded to an attack the other started, but it was his responsibility to at the very least show some restraint on the guy. 

What sticks it more to your pride is that you were there, that he didn’t respect or fear you enough to wait until you weren't looking. 

You smack the desk with the palm that isn't holding your head. “For fuck’s sake, Levi, you can’t go around beating up people half to death just because they’re shit-heads. Respect is something that is earned through different means.”

He huffs out through his nose, making vacant blabber of your words as he glances away to a random spot in a wall. 

Maybe it’s your fault. Maybe niceties don’t work on Levi after all, and dragging yourself down to an equal by sitting at his table solidified your downfall. You gave him too much free room to disrespect you.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, soldier,” you command, adding power to your voice. “Sit down.”

With a subtle roll of eyes, he sets them back on you. It’s the only order he follows.

You fight to keep your response monotone. “Respect doesn’t come through hatred or fear. Respect is when they don’t talk shit behind your back. It is acknowledging someone’s greatness regardless of anything. No one here respects you, soldier. You’ve only incited fear. And they will continue to talk shit behind your back until you change something about yourself.”

You realize he crossed his arms somewhere between your lecture, and with the tilt of his hip to the side, you find sassiness embodying mockery. 

“Are you done?” His voice is the true epitome of monotony compared to whatever it is you attempted. 

“Fucking hell, Levi. What do you want from people?” 

Levi only stares back, protected behind a frown. 

You jerk a small movement with your chin, inviting an elaboration that never comes. “What is it? What the fuck is it? I tried to be nice, I tried to sympathize with your predicament, but nothing satisfies you. So what do you want?”

“To be left the fuck alone.”

Your brows shoot up, and you watch him like a mother would a stare at her child. “I could tell Erwin to hand you over if that’s what you want. The MPs are desperate to shove you inside a cell. You could finally be alone. Is that what you want?”

His fingers twitch beneath his folded arms. “I’m tired of listening to your crap.”

Your calves knock the chair off with a jarring screech. Levi watches you stomping over without moving a muscle, and to further rub salt on your wound, he doesn't react even as you step into his personal space, his way of showing there isn’t a threatening speck in your demeanor he would fear. 

“You are going to fucking respect me.” Fisting his cravat, you force him to bend forward. “You hear me?”

The air shifts between you, becomes charged and strung. He grabs your wrist in an equally tight clutch. To respond, you lift your other hand and swing it across the air, but he stops it before it can smack him on the cheek. 

Your lips pull back to form a deep scowl. “Piece of shit,” you mutter, restrained from both arms. The next impulse triggers your brain into plunging your heel on the tip of his boot, and the resulting relapse of his grip lets one of your hands loose for it to fist a chunk of his hair.

Bound from the neck and above, Levi glares into your eyes like you were a heinous creature and the most disgusting trash your mother could have brought into this world.

There's enough pride between you to extend the physical confrontation for the entirety of the night. You're feeling particularly stubborn in your fury, fed up by his existence and unwilling to let him have the last word. He won't be leaving your office untouched, that's for certain. 

Levi notices the boost in your character and makes the wise decision of letting up first, though not without growling with the whole intent of demonstrating how much he hates you. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Sit on the goddamned chair.” You encourage the action with a pull he begrudgingly follows. Your leg hooks on a chair and you twist it around. With a single shove, he sits, and just as he’s about to complain, you stomp between his legs, which he quickly spreads on an impulse, looking down with widened eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” he mutters.

You prop your arm on the bent knee and lean closer, face scorching with ire. “You have nothing to your name other than your criminal record. Stop acting as if you were not pathetic. You're a decent fighter, but don’t think a couple of titan kills per expedition makes you worth more than the heads of the fuckers you slaughter. I’d rather command an entire squadron for an extermination than depend on your sorry ass. You’re not our only hope of defeating the titans. Don’t think for a second you’re that special.”

He retreats into the backrest, glare burning. You’re sure your brows would go numb if you held them as tight into your eyes as he does. His display doesn't affect you. He never had the words to retaliate in the first place. Only empty threats. 

“You dominated the underground and maybe that’s why you think you’re hot stuff. Let me tell you something, rat, things work differently here. You’re no bigger than the civilization inhabiting these three walls, no bigger than the pigs stuffing their faces in the capital, definitely no bigger than Erwin or the Scouting Legion. You’re no bigger than me or the expensive cup of tea I drink in the mornings. Your talents mean fucking nothing if your disgusting personality keeps stealing the spotlight.”

Levi clicks his tongue, looking away to the side, but with a strong grip on his chin, you force him back. 

“Do that again and you’ll see it coming.”

He leers heavily, but adds nothing. 

“If you think you’re in your right to treat everyone like trash for being born in better conditions than you, think again. You know what would make you a real man? Proving to those bastards in the capital and everyone else that your upbringing doesn’t define you.” You jerk his chin to the sides, reminding him of his place. “I’m through with your bullshit. Speak back to me and I swear I will clog your mouth with the stupid cravat you wear. Disrespect anyone else and I will tie you to the rooftop. Keep acting like a little bitch and I will spank the everliving fuck out of you.”

Levi blinks twice, pauses, and blinks again. He fights your tight grip, but only gets to glance somewhere else without moving his face. 

The last time you got him neck-deep into a similar position, you couldn’t pinpoint where he stood with your approach. The pink spreading from his cheeks to his ears was so tender in color that the candlelight swallowed it, but as he is now, beet red is impossible to hide. 

The laugh you release is sardonic. “You sick fuck.”

He flinches, returning to your face with a widened frown. “What?”

You hum, thoughtful, your smile domineering. “I bet you’d like to get your ass spanked.”

He growls through his teeth. “Watch it–” 

Your boot switches places with your knee, and you bury it in his crotch. Levi jumps, frown melting, replaced by a look that would make anyone think he spotted a ghost. 

“No, you’re gonna watch it.” Your hands grip the backrest of the chair, caging him between your arms. The curve of your mouth grows. “I knew you were a man of few words, but I didn't think you complied better through actions. You don't need a talking-to, little rat. You need to be taught a fucking lesson.”

The initial shock on his face diffuses into a helpless look. “What are you saying?”

“As I mentioned before, I'm only doing this because you're letting it work so well. You can't say I haven't tried anything else.” 

He flinches when you smack him on the shoulders, suddenly overly sensitive to every action you take. The touch slides down, so pressed on his frame you're sure he feels the skin of your palms through the fabric. You stop on his pectorals, which you note with surprise are like steel plates attached to his chest. 

“How about we start by addressing the penalties you owe me? This might take a while. The list is a long one.” You reel closer, letting your breaths fall on his face. “One. You're saying my title and only my title the next time you address me. Is that clear?”

He audibly swallows, and you can tell based on the expression he twists that he didn’t intend for it to pop so loudly in his throat. You reach for his mouth, thumb pushing down on his lower lip so it shows the head of his teeth. 

“So what do you say?”

He shakes your hand off. “You’re a pain in the ass.” But his voice is small.

“Wrong.” Your hands make quick work of his cravat and you jerk it off, swinging the white cloth across his lips like a paintbrush on canvas. “You either say my title or you say nothing at all.”

You decide to make the little fucker your chair while he’s pliant. 

Levi starts and recoils when you take the plunge, bracing his hands on the sides of the chair. His thighs, despite leaning on the smaller side, are stiff and meaty, surpassing the tightness of the bulge beginning to form between his legs. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” 

Pinching his eyes, he forces out through his teeth, “Shut up.”

“Strike two, pretty boy.” You swing the cravat across the back of your shoulders and watch as his gaze flickers to the ends hanging over your breasts. He stares a second too long, then runs back to your eyes, soon after shutting them when you roll your hips in.

Your own thighs jolt, hands clutching hard on his shoulders. You swallow an incoming moan, though chances are it wouldn't have been louder than the string of curses Levi mutters through his teeth. 

The look on his face makes you stop for a second. 

His pupils are blown out, wanton underneath knit brows. The view is fleeting, to your dismay, taking time away from studying it further as Levi reverts to an angry character the moment he gains a sense of control.

You adjust on his lap, pulling a meek whine he traps behind his teeth. “I fancy the sounds you’re making. Much better than the bullshit usually coming out of your mouth.”

He groans in response. You can’t tell if it’s in complaint or delight. Maybe a blend of both. His hands fly up to anchor themselves to your waist when you rock into him again. The warm touch sends pleasant tingles up your spine. You notice that his thighs dangle off the chair, showing how much he slithered from his original, uptight position. 

At the risk of building your own orgasm, you set a constant pace, Levi’s fingers twitching on your waist as a result. He joins you with nearly perceptible movements you have an inkling are more instinctual than intended. It doesn’t take as many thrusts to get him shuddering. 

Then you stop, and Levi chokes on a breath, brows shooting into his forehead. 

A smirk wiggles your lips up. “What’s that, pretty thing? You wanna cum already?”

He peels an eyelid open and frowns. “Fuck you.”

“Strike three.” You grab the cravat from one end and pull it off. Levi grunts a complaint when you sneak it between his teeth, but otherwise doesn’t fight it, letting you make the knot on the back of his head. “Keep at it and I’ll tie it harder, you hear me?”

He can only return a helpless look that tightens when you start thrusting into him again. 

Your arms shake and bend, foreheads nearly colliding. “Damn,” snakes out through unstable breaths. You look up at him. “Can't deny you feel good.”

He blinks, and with his mouth tied up like that, he has no business looking that good either. 

You help him out of his jacket, a thoughtful gesture of yours should he happen to be drowning in a pool of his own heat and sweat. He shrugs it off to make the job faster, though when you toss it on the floor, he narrows a glare, a complaint stuck in his throat.

Your only reproach is buckling into him again. 

You place your hands on his shoulders and move them down, feeling around for the dips and rises in his biceps and forearms. It was clear from the start that he had to be well built, but the scout’s uniform didn’t do him justice until the shirt started sticking to his frame with sweat. You marvel at how tight his skin looks over the muscles, groping whatever your hands touch. 

When Levi fills with tremors, you stop again. 

A grouchy complaint gets muffled by the cravat. The sound would have traveled past the walls of your office if his mouth wasn't tied shut. He tosses his head back, begging to the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. 

“I’ll take the cravat off if you’re ready to talk.” 

You aren’t sure he even heard you. His eyes are distant and glazed over, hands no longer clutching, but resting on your hips. To wake him back up, you slither a hand between your bodies and grip his erection with scornful intent. 

Levi jumps back to life and grunts as if asking for a chance to talk. 

You loop a thumb beside his mouth and lift the cloth. “Yes?” is an innocent inquiry dripping with honeyed elongation. 

He forces out a small, “You’re… shit–I’m…” His voice is hoarse and highly strung, simmered down to powerless croaks. You thought it couldn't get any deeper than it normally is, but you were wrong. 

You hum, amused. “Not quite, pretty thing.” Cravat back in place, you grind into him again. His hands seize your waist, hips thrusting up so hard your feet detach from the floor. 

He moans with relief. 

“Someone’s a little excited.” You stand on your legs before he can please himself further, and another string of sounds immediately begs for a second chance. You push the cravat down. “Yes?”

“Captain, Captain, Captain, fucking damn it,” he rushes out.

A smirk snakes its way up your mouth. “What do you want to say to me?”

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

“For what?” His answer should be a no-brainer. Since he stalls, you reach down and hold his dick. “For what?”

Shoving a moan inside, he swallows, then croaks, “...my behavior.” 

You hum in agreement. “And for your shit mouth.”

“And for my shit mouth.”

You spread your palm on his forehead, pushing the sticky bangs to the back. When your hand lets go, they bounce to the front on their own. “And for being a dick.”

He shifts, squaring his shoulder blades with the backrest. His spine must hurt from sitting so poorly on the chair. Frustrated, he barks, “Shit, woman–!”

“Excuse me, what was that?”

The moment your fingers loop around the cravat on his collarbone, Levi rushes, “Captain. Captain. I meant Captain, fuck!” He throws his head back and shuts his eyes, wallowing in pain for a few seconds before he returns to confront your predator’s gaze. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“That’s a good fucking boy,” you coo.

His brows twitch up, forming another one of those needy expressions you fancy so much. The praise turns him on, you can tell. There isn’t a lot he can hide while you reside so close, feeling him throb against your cunt. 

“Captain…”

It almost sounds natural coming from his mouth. You smile. “Yes, pretty one?”

The pull of his lips shows clenched teeth, though rather than upset, he looks embarrassed. “You–are you… are you going to continue?”  

It's evident that he lacks sexual experience. The revelation is surprising for someone of his looks, but then again so have you witnessed him scare off women and men alike for the sole reason of looking at him. 

You take a seat on his thighs, though away from his crotch. “I’m not done with my lecture yet.” 

Levi groans. He should know that he has been enough of an asshole to warrant an allnighter. 

“Don't tell me you've already forgotten how hard you smacked me.”

He scoffs a weak breath. “You were provoking me.”

You turn your head so that your ear is in his line of sight. “What was that? Sounded like another strike.”

A rich groan grazes the walls of his throat. “I apologize, Captain.”

“You remember, right? On here.” You tap the side of your jaw with your forefinger. “What will you do for forgiveness? 

“I already apologized.”

"That's no longer enough.” You tip your chin up as if it were an offering, fighting the pull of a mischievous smile. 

“What do you want?” He would sound annoyed if the sentence was any less breathless. His eyes spring down to the faded bruise, and brief realization smacks him in the face as if you were implying the impossible. The man who wouldn't falter before a horde of titans can't seem to handle the thought of putting his lips anywhere near you. 

You demand his attention with a hum. “I don’t like to be kept waiting–”

He moves in before you can say another word, slotting his clumsy mouth on the side of your jaw. The caress is feather-light, barely scraping the surface of kissing, lips plump and wet from the many times he has run his tongue over them. Only a squeeze on his bulge gets him to part his mouth, hot breaths pushing into your skin. 

The huff that leaves you gives a voice to your amusement. It's not exactly what you had in mind, but you can't force him to run before he knows how to crawl. 

“Pretty one,” you coo, shoving him back into the chair with a grip on his hair. “Didn't think you had it in you to be so endearing. Who would have thought?” 

He's panting quietly, half-lidded eyes and chest jerking in uneven strides. His frown is an adulterated version of what would reside on his face under normal circumstances. 

“Captain, please,” he murmurs.

You feel with your hand that he's hot and swollen between his legs, throbbing after your every touch, and the fabric is stained with precum. He must be hiding decent thickness in there. The tent in his pants is high. 

When you start to undo the belt, Levi reacts like you've burned him. 

“Wait–” he says. 

Definitely a virgin. You would stop everything if he asked. Several codes are being broken and he's under no obligation to see the punishment through, but he's still begging for it. Begging despite having no clear boundaries or knowledge of what he likes. 

You chuckle. “Don't stress. I will merely give you some room to breathe.”  You unfasten the belt, open the button of his pants and pull the zipper down, not going further than that. 

A brief glance at you shows his quiet appreciation. 

The break has extended long enough. You roll your hips in again, and his hands fall on your waist for support, bracing through the new round you begin on his dick. He's already touching at the line where your waist ends and your ass begins and you don't think he's sane enough to realize it. 

“Shit,” he hisses, thrusting up to the speed of your movements. “Sh-shit.”

You have kept a good grasp on the situation, but it wouldn't have been possible without conscious restraint. Levi is a handsome man who in some form or another reciprocates the attraction. His dick is hard, and he keeps nudging your clit with it. His moans are gorgeous sounds despite being held back in his throat. That deep voice is doing wonders for him; it makes you want to rip out the sounds yourself, makes you want to explore him in all of the ways you haven't allowed yourself to enjoy since your younger years. 

He's vocal, desperate, so unlike himself; trashing and spiraling out of control. 

“Are you close?” you breathe. He must be. 

“So close,” he murmurs, oscillating his head to the sides. “...so close.”

A moan tries to claw its way out of your throat when you stop again. 

Levi lets his head fall on the backrest like his soul left him, slurring a prayer built on Captain’s he stumbles one after another. 

Only his pleas fill the silence. You take some moments during it to ensure your voice is stable for the next time you speak. “One more thing, pretty one. I will need you to do something for me tomorrow.”

His head keeps lolling to the sides. “Anything,” he breathes. “Anything. Anything.”

“I like the attitude,” you chuckle while pushing a few wet bangs from his silver eyes. “The MPs will be stopping by tomorrow and they’re quite eager to meet you. Think you can be a good boy for me when they come?”

He hurries a few nods. “Yes, yes. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

“I'm thoroughly enjoying this side of you.”

“...please.”

“I know, I know.” You sit back on his groin and fuck him with the intent of going all the way through, sharing moans with him. You're not going for the most stamina lest you risk knocking the chair over with the two of you on top, but you're making sure every push reaches deep.  

Far too gone, Levi slides his hands down to your ass, and he pulls you in. “You feel… ah.” 

You wait for an answer that doesn't come. “What?” you breathe, mildly curious. 

“Good. You feel good.” He hitches when you start rubbing against him to give your knees a break. Not only is your crotch sliding but your breasts on his chest as well. “So good,” he slurs again, gripping you tighter. 

You can't believe how well he's taking it. You had never been with a man so willing to surrender. He's not only the most wanted criminal from the underground, he's also a superhuman in the battlefield, a devil to the titans, and you have him begging, sprawled on the chair without the strength to use his legs. The foul mouth you thought could only voice profanities has been capable of spilling the most enchanting of sounds. 

Levi sucks in a breath. “I'm close.”

You peek at him through half-lidded eyes. “Are you warning me? Do you realize I could stop again if I decided to?”

His eyes slowly peel open like they have the weight of rocks. “... if you want,” is a meek reply. You notice he's much too euphoric to question his own thought process. 

“I'm giving you sweet release,” you pant, lips parting from excitement as your own orgasm approaches. “You've –ah– you've earned as much.” You pick up the speed, and the chair starts screeching. 

Levi almost lets a moan slip from his open mouth, but he clenches his teeth. His breaths hurry in and out of his lungs in a frenzy, almost in resemblance to a man who is drowning. 

Your belly is tight, and your muscles shake against your will. “Come with me, pretty one,” you moan, finding steady purchase on his shoulders. 

Levi seems to like it when you say that. “Yes, Captain. Yes, Captain. Yes, I–” 

His face pinches when he convulses, arms scurrying to wrap around your back and pull you in for an awkward embrace that hides him in the crook of your neck. He's sweaty and burning, but you grip the back of his head with both hands to keep him in place. 

The mere thought of Levi coming undone helps you follow right behind him. Everything in you pulls taut, and then it releases. You fall from so high a ladder that there's nothing else besides white-hot pleasure speeding through your veins. A flurry of stars shower behind your eyelids from how tight you clutch them, making sure not a sound goes past your throat. 

Levi's crotch is hot with the cum that squirts into his pants. He rides through the last remnants of pleasure with you, and you both begin to slow down simultaneously, breathing hard at each other. He flops like a heavy sack on the chair, arms limp beside him, your whole weight on top in the same washed-out state. 

Against the desire of lying static, you fight the mellow whimpers and slide off his thighs, quick to realize as you stand that the walk to your quarters won't be pleasant. You've leaked more than you were expecting to deal with, and it's hard to keep yourself from wobbling. 

Levi remains on the chair, languid eyelids blinking awake, and as the lust scatters, a frown gradually settles. “Wait…” he mutters as he's done snapping out of it. “What the fuck?” 

You laugh, fixing your shirt. “Submissive little thing.”

“Shut up.” 

A long and quiet glance from your eyes grabs his attention. 

He clears his throat, though it also sounds like a groan. “I take it back, Captain.”

“You better.” 

Walking with stickiness between your legs is far from the ideal situation, but you don’t have spare clothes in your office. The most you can do is freshen up in the restroom until you're done with what is left of your work for the night. 

Behind you, Levi shares similar concerns. “How disgusting,” he grumbles. 

“It’s called cum. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen it?”

“I know what it is. Get off my back.” 

A heavy pause. 

“...Captain,” he finishes with less might. 

The huff you let out sounds sarcastic in nature. “Sure, I believe you.” You walk to the door, doing your best not to waddle, and open it.

It wasn’t even locked. You played a dangerous game tonight. Rage is one hell of a drug, it seems, enough to make you forget any reservations you had about crossing lines with people from your work environment. Considering your position in the Scouting Legion, your image is of utmost importance. 

You have a lot to think about tonight. 

“Out you go.” 

Done with his belt, he looks back like you’ve grown a third eye. “You can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am.”

“I'm disgusting right now.” He doesn’t gesticulate his problem area, but you get the message and brush it off with another chuckle.

“Yeah, well, that's why the communal showers are outside and not here. If you hurry, you might get it done before the call to quarters.” You tip your head toward the hallway. “Out.”

Grunting curses under his breath, he snatches his jacket from the floor and heads out with a ghost of what was once his impenetrable dignity. He knows you’ve broken through him in more ways than one, shattered his ego beyond repair. 

And to make sure he doesn’t forget it, you smack his ass on his way out.

Chapter Text

You cross your arms and direct scornful laughter at the reflection staring back at you in the mirror. You don’t recognize her. Prior to last night, no one could have convinced you of what you would risk for one prideful, underground thug. The sweet taste of victory was short lived, lasting only for the remainder of the night until you woke up feeling bitter and defeated. 

Levi didn’t break first. You did. 

You sculpted yourself from the mud. Your upbringing didn’t give you any leverage. It took a lot of grind to make your existence worth some dignity and proper regard. You more than anyone know how much it matters to you, so for you to betray your own sacrifices, and over one street rat nonetheless… of course you find your reflection in the mirror and want to jam your knuckle through it. 

You groan, snatching your jacket from the hanger stand before slamming the door shut behind you. 

The issue with fraternization touches a gray area anywhere within the three military regiments, more so in the Scouting Legion. Life expectancy has an overcall count of six months for the average soldier. You suppose pity and the fact that nothing ever gets the chance to develop is what motivates so much leniency from the officials. 

That’s strictly speaking about cadets. Your case is different. 

You’re known for educating younglings, heaven’s sake. The last thing you need is unfounded rumors spreading out, though for now you may be able to count on Levi’s prideful nature to keep his mouth shut. 

You exit the officers’ building, walking down the stone steps and into the wash of sunbeams. Today’s morning is bright and crisp. The weather works nicely for a passive stroll around town, not so much for hours on horseback while the commander delegates the sections and roles for a new formation Erwin has been crafting. 

There’s still around half an hour left before roll call. You couldn’t stand to remain put in your quarters, losing scrap upon scrap of sanity the longer you entertained your thoughts. Your office should have some accumulated work in need of tending to, which ought to distract your mind until it is time to head out. 

You come to an abrupt halt at the flank of the main building, smacking into the wall as you pick up an ongoing one-sided conversation at the foot of the steps.

“Scum like you don’t get to cheat faith. Don’t think for a second that we’ll turn a blind eye to your every misdeed. Your nature can’t be erased. You were born trash, and you’ll die as one. A cell will find you one way or another, if not by your previous crimes, then any future ones for sure.”

You don’t like the silence that expands where an answer should have been heard. Neither name nor specifications are needed to make an accurate guess on who stands on the receiving end of this degradation. 

The inspection is today, goddammit. You forgot about it, and out of every unlucky scout who could have stumbled upon an MP, of course it had to be Levi. That branch gets under your skin every time, so you can’t blame him if he’s already ticked off, but Erwin’s ploy will perish if Levi delivers the first blow. 

“Are you done?” he grumbles, seemingly bored. You can already picture the same infuriating show of folded arms and slope hips he held to your face last night. It’s the type of reaction that leaves his victims feeling moronic even when Levi himself is cornered. 

And the MP isn’t exempt from its effects. “You–are you…? You think I’m bullshitting you? Don’t act like you’re not the lowest of the low, you fucking son of a whore.”

“What did you–” 

You hear it. It’s the threat of a man on the hunt for blood. You stretch a leg before you, prepare to race off the wall. 

“Stand down, Levi.”

Heaven arrives in the form of a smooth and passive voice. The footfalls of Erwin Smith move softly across the dirt before coming to a stop at the scene.

“Don’t waste your energy like this. We’ll be on horseback for many hours to come and your strength is pivotal for the success of the formation.” 

Silence. The kind that makes you tense. 

“Whatever you say, sir.” Resignation weaves into Levi’s response.

More silence after that. Erwin must be as nonplussed as you, the only difference being that you have the luxury of letting it show on your face.

Erwin takes the lead in the exchange. “Officer Murray, is it? I was informed you’d come here. Allow me to lead the way so we can start with the inspection. We don’t have much time before the Scouts depart for training.”

Murray’s egotistical behavior devolves into grumbles. “Should have made room if you knew we were coming.” 

“I’m afraid that we can’t modify the regiment’s schedule around a last minute visit of briefly an hour of duration.” Erwin’s words are pristine of image, masterfully derisive. “It has taken us weeks of preparation to pull together this training exercise. I’m hoping you can understand.”

Levi quietly huffs.

“Whatever,” Murray says. “Lead the way, scout.” 

“Very well.”

Footsteps steadily approach. That’s your cue to get moving. You turn heel and walk straight ahead, hoping to gain enough distance so that no one realizes you were eavesdropping.

You aren’t fast enough. Behind you, the officer addresses you by your full name without the decency of adding your rank.

You halt.

How did it not ring a bell before? You wouldn’t have given his voice a second thought had he not called out to you. The many times you heard him say it and the impact he had in your career would never allow you to forget it.

… much to your dismay. 

Shrunken into your shoulders, you force your feet to move around. 

He hasn't changed. His complexions are sharper and his height has increased, but he's still the same. He styles his hair just as he did then and still owns his surroundings like the floor he walks is sacred. 

It's no mystery that the man is blessed with good looks. His freckled skin, light eyes and locks of copper color have always been enough to make anyone turn a glance at least once. You wouldn't find traits as fair as his outside of Wall Sina. 

Erwin stops a few meters ahead of him, alternating his curious but silent gaze between the two of you. Closer to the main building, Levi stands with folded arms against the stone wall, spectating. How the tables have turned. 

“Ludwig,” you sigh, feet glued to the ground. You don’t want to prolong the moment any longer than necessary. “I can see the interior’s been treating you well.” 

“Life has gone smoothly since graduation. Can’t really complain.”

You set your glare on the emblem embroidered on the breast pocket of his jacket: a green mare with a horn on its forehead. The mere thought of the branch they represent is enough to make your blood singe. 

“Wish I could say the same for you,” he continues. “You might think I don’t care that you mindlessly step into no man’s land without regard for your life, but I do. Our history goes way back after a–”

“Don’t care to hear it,” you rush out.

“You–” He jerks a brow, amused about his new understanding. “Don’t tell me you still hold resentment for what happened. It was years ago.” The way he ends it with your name sounds so demeaning, as if he's dealing with a child.  

You ball your hands into fists because you know he’s right. It’s been a long while since you’ve seen him, enough that you barely thought of him. You were fourteen when you joined the Cadet Corps; a dumb kid. And he was a sixteen year old cretin, but a dumb kid just the same. 

“So…” he resumes. “No hard feelings, Cap–?”

You will not be subjected to such impertinence in front of Erwin and the little street rat. 

“Section Commander, without meaning any disrespect, might I suggest that you kindly guide the man so he can finish his duties? We don’t have all day.” And to prevent Ludwig from adding any other input, you whip your head away, continuing down the same road you had taken before he decided to stop you. 

“I have to agree, officer.” Whether Erwin means to lend you a hand or is simply agreeing with your statement, you are grateful.  

As your attention switches from the conversation you abandon to the gateway of a forest behind headquarters, you realize you picked the least conventional way of escaping. Nothing awaits you where you're headed. All of the equipment and titan dummies are located north from the main building, so you can't even pretend to busy yourself with anything. 

Good grief.  

You keep going for the trees lest you embarrass yourself further in front of the trio of men, mulling over worries you thought had long since eased. 

Ludwig is the reminder of the foolish mistake you made when you shackled yourself to an affair that had no hopes of existing past the present, but a broken heart wasn’t going to mark you for life. You got over that eventually. 

What you can’t forgive is that he dared to mess with your dignity.

Worth doesn’t come easy to orphans. So cheap was your existence from the day you were born that you were handed over to the military the moment you could be disposed of.

It wasn’t the worst outcome that could have happened to you. The one thing the regiment drilled into your head was that you could make your pathetic life worth something on your own terms. 

Nearly two years later, when you had the respect of your peers and instructors and were known for your leadership and camaraderie, Ludwig, the first guy you trusted with your privacy, backstabbed you for some minutes of laughter with his peers. 

You stop in front of a trunk and ram your fist into it. 

From one day to the next, you went from paragon to class-clown, back to the nobody you were at fourteen, then ridiculed again upon being the only trainee from your batch to pick The Survey Corps. 

Granted, your problems back then meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. You were all silly kids at the time, but the bad memories have stuck with you.

“What’s gotten into you?” 

As an adult, the consequences can be worse. Clearly, you have learned nothing. Now you’re risking everything you built with the scouts for another man. 

You turn to address the only bearer of that silky depth of monotone color, leaning your back into the trunk as you cross your arms. “What does a woman have to do to get some privacy around here?” 

Levi studies you with tame curiosity. You can’t help but raise your hands to adjust your jacket, now conscious about the discomposure he must have witnessed before he decided to announce his presence. 

You clear your throat. “Can I help you with something, soldier?”

He’s silent for a few seconds. “You didn’t seem normal around him.”

Levi triggers your defenses, and they rise before you like iron walls. The day is just starting and you’re already exhausted.

“Surely, I’m matching your energy when I say: My business is my own.”

He relents quickly. “Fair enough.”

“Were you curious?”

“Not curious.”

Your brows jump up with derision. “Worried?”

“That’s an overstretch.” 

You shrug, dismissing his opinion as insignificant. “Feel free to draw your own conclusions based on what you witnessed. I don’t care.” 

Another bout of silence crowds between you. He doesn’t know what to say, and by extension, you don’t either, but seeing as you’re both standing in place like idiots, it feels as though the interest in trying to communicate goes both ways. 

You were better self-assured before all this. The need to shake your head at yourself comes with the thought. 

“Were you there?” he suddenly asks. 

You hum in a matter that asks for more elaboration. 

“While the bastard was harassing me.”

You can’t decide from looking at him alone if he already has the definite answer in mind or not. “Who’s to say I wasn’t testing you?”

“Well,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. “Then how was I?”

“What?”

Annoyance pushes his brows into his eyes. “Did I pass your test or not?” His voice raises a decibel, and it strains like he's embarrassed about surrendering to his curiosity. 

You fight to hold your lips straight, but the amusement inevitably bleeds through squinted eyes. “Ah, hungry for praise, I see. You want a reward that badly?”

“Don’t twist my words.” 

“Enlighten me, then. What is it that you meant?”

“I just–I followed your order, okay? You don’t have to make it sound weird.” He’s losing the sharp edge in his tone. His posture abandons the openness it had and becomes guarded. 

“Sure,” you chuckle, letting a smile tilt your lips up from a single side. “I commend your efforts, soldier. You’re dismissed.”

Every second that passes is an invitation for his glare to pierce harder. “You’re joking. That’s it?”

“I shouldn’t be begging you to be a decent human. Come back with a hundred titan kills if you want a medal.”

“You’re fucking annoying.” 

The spite in those words is enough to propel you away from the tree, reminding you of the nearly shattered working relationship you’re supposed to salvage. You shouldn’t allow yourself to even humor his character. For all the talk you give to Levi about forgetting his place, you seem to be doing the same thing in equal measure. 

It needs to stop with you reclaiming your place above him. You fist his cravat and haul him in, words layered with menace. “Listen here. We went off course yesterday, but don’t think for a second that I’m anywhere near your equal, let’s make that very clear. I will not have you diminish me. You saw for yourself that I meant it when I said I’d stuff your mouth with the cravat you wear. Consider every other threat I listed before you go ahead and misbehave.” 

He snatches your wrist, the grip softer compared to last night, but still carefully firm to hold you back. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t try me.” The fist you tighten and the jaw you lock are reflective of the anger showing in your eyes. “And while we’re on the topic, I’m sure I shouldn’t have to ask you to keep your mouth shut about this matter, correct?”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Levi–”

His hold lets loose around your wrist. “Isn’t the answer blatantly obvious? That... whatever it was, it’s our business and no one else’s. I won’t snitch on you.”

You widen your eyes. Without releasing him, your hold on the cravat softens. 

Snitch on you. He may as well have cornered you between a rock and hard place with that statement. Your reputation hangs by a thread and he just declared it is in his power to decide whether he cuts it or not. 

Your shoulders hang, spine bending an inch forward. “Quite the predicament I find myself in. You’re making me sound like the worst superior you could have been transferred to.” 

“Not the worst.” 

“Thanks?” 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think I would have made an effort today without the constant reminder of you in my head.” 

Now you’re speechless, mouth slacking in search of words. You don’t want to believe that he actually means to reassure you, yet the longer you stare, trying to find something you aren’t even sure of yourself, the more inclined you are to trust what his gaze shows. 

Your chest deflates with a quiet sigh that expresses some relief. “You can be surprisingly endearing without meaning to.” The thought escapes your mouth before you can think about keeping it to yourself. 

Without the crinkles of a frown and the sour down-turned curve of his lips, he looks as young as the cadets from the most recent batches. He is thoughtful, leaning on the verge of a tranquil expression while he studies your face. 

You take the time to admire his blinking eyes under the lick of sunlight. Their gray color changes to dark cerulean, perfectly straight lashes crowning them. A couple of stray bangs slither to the side, following the slight tilt of his head. On impulse, you reach out to brush them. 

Mimicking the slow intention in your movement, Levi seizes your wrist, letting you feel how warm and tender his touch can be when he isn’t on a fight-or-flight mode.  

The position reminds you of last night; your hand on his cravat, wrist caught in his fist, and your other one stopped mid-air, inches away from his face.

Desire rouses in the pit of your stomach. You forget all thoughts that have nothing to do with the thug in front of you. 

“You did so good, Levi.” His name slides like silk from your mouth, giving him the praise you know he wants. “...so good. Such a good boy.” 

The rough edges of his frown dissapear. He’s affected, but you can tell that he lacks the courage to act upon this new interest. 

You step in, carefully like a hunter around a wolf. When your hips square together with his, Levi draws a sharp breath. The beginnings of a hard edge have raised a small tent in his pants. 

You hum. “This feels familiar. Is the memory of yesterday turning you on?” 

“Fucking woke up like this,” he grumbles, shying away from your eyes. “It’s your fault.” 

What is going on with you? Suddenly, you can’t steal yourself away from him. He fuels your curiosity, temps your careless side and mixes your priorities; all with the work of his very peculiar character. 

Your mouth opens with a mind of its own. “You can claim your reward, pretty one.”

“In what way?” slithers out through murmurs, his hold tightening around your wrists. 

“I don’t know. What’s the first thought that comes to mind?” 

He doesn’t need to consider the question for long. It clicks on his face. The lust in his lidded grays leaks as he stares into you, heartbeat filling the silence for a few seconds before a broken sound very explicit of his surrender spills into, “Damn you.”

Your would-be response dissolves into a shallow exhale as you’re driven back into the tree, spine knocking on the lumpy bark. Levi’s hands shift, accommodating around your wrists so he can pin them beside your head. He groans with unclogged relief when his hips find yours.  

The front of his body is hard and firm against you. If you focus enough, you can feel the defined lines of his abdomen despite having layers of fabric and leather between you. His legs are awkwardly splayed on the outer side of your thighs. 

The temptation of staying pliant is a sweet whisper in your ear, but you learn soon enough that Levi's knowledge stops at humping you into the tree. You need to keep your role of superior intact, anyway. This isn't the time or place to slack off. 

You laugh, pulling an arm out to grab a chunk of his hair. Your grip forces him back with his chin tipped up, skin ivory under the band of sunlight sneaking past the crown of the trees. His eyes slither away with the movement, fluttering close midway. You take a moment to quietly appreciate the sharp lines of his jaw. 

“Do you even know what you’re after?” you ask.

His gaze flicks down, dilated pupils penetrating like knives. Whatever scowl he intended to show melts away under wantonness. The mere idea of having the most stubborn man alive sedated in your hands makes you incapable of turning a blind eye. 

“Tell me, Levi. What do you want?”

“You know that already,” he rasps.

“Maybe I want to hear it.” Your grip tightens on his hair. “I’m ordering you to say it.”

He clicks his tongue, specks of defiance returning as a fragile glare. “Why make me say something we both already know?”

You raise your tone. “Because I’m your Captain and I’m telling you to. Or is your memory so fucking short we need to repeat yesterday’s lesson?” With another fistful of his cravat, you reiterate the warning. Your eyes watch his larynx flit up and down as he swallows.

“Sorry, Captain,” sounds coarse but lenient. 

You release his cravat and worm your hand between you to push him off, amused as Levi groans. Your other fist stays curled around his hair. “Say it already, little rat.”

The flash in his gaze insists on opposing that order. You rock his head to the sides to snuff it out, handling him like cattle gripped from the nape. “Say it,” you insist.

“I thought this was supposed to be a reward.”

“Say,” you breathe, “It.”

"I don’t even remember your damn question.”

God, he’s a pain to handle, but if he is yet to shrug you off, the spell that makes him putty in your hands is still active. You don’t think he realizes you’re at a disadvantage in your position. He could break away and leave you hanging at any moment, though the fact that he hasn't marks an estimate of the control you have over him. 

“What do you want?” you ask again. 

Even then, he stalls. You might need to give him some encouragement. 

“It’s a simple answer to a simple question, Levi.” You slide your hand across his stomach, climbing in a straight line to his sternum, which swells under your palm with the mouthfuls of air he takes. Your voice drops to buttery whispers. “Maybe you want me to touch you.”  

Your other hand falls over the prickly hairs of his undercut, clasping on the skin with a tight grip that brings him closer to your forehead. His shallow breaths are hot on your face, a touch of tea to sweeten their smell. 

“Maybe you want me to flirt,” you say, the hand on his chest raising to pull his lower lip down. “Or would you be happy enough with just some tea?”

His arms lie miserably by his sides, limp as if he has forgotten they’re an extension of himself. He is tilted forward, nearly on the balls of his feet, drawn to you. 

“Maybe…” you lean your mouth on his ear, feeling him coil into his shoulders. “You want to cum.”

“Yes,” he breathes, the answer immediate. 

“Which option?”

“The last one.” 

Your hand moves to lock on his jaw. “Which option?” you hiss. 

“Fucking hell, Captain. Help me come, alright?” 

Your grip on his face turns into a caress that strokes as if he's a well-mannered dog. “Look at all it took to get you to admit a simple truth. We’re gonna have to fix that behavior.” You reel back, leaning your head on the trunk. “For now, though, you’ve earned this. Yes, Levi, I’ll help you come.”

The moment your hand grazes his crotch, Levi hitches a breath and pulls his pelvis back, though soon after returns for more, as if he had only needed time to let the notion settle. You press your palm into his bulge, prodding around for the types of touches that make him react the most. 

Wandering up to the tip has him shuddering. Levi clamps his mouth shut and thrusts in, crushing your hand between the two of you. A little whine escapes him, one you wouldn't have caught had he been away from your face. If he has any desire to drop his forehead on your shoulder, he doesn’t act upon it, hovering above it instead, brushing his cheek with yours every time he twitches. 

“Indulge me,” you whisper, amusement blended into the sound. “How many hours did I keep you awake last night?” You adjust your palm so it slides up and down his crotch. The smack of his hand on the trunk tells you he likes it. 

“Oh, shit,” he moans. “All night. All fucking night.”

He is there. That specific point where his mind disconnects from his tongue. You press your smile on his ear. “You were thinking about me?”

“Yes.”

“About the things I could do to you?”

“Yes.”

“Like making you come?”

“Fuck, yes.”  

The hand he used to slap the trunk moves away, and he indulges himself with flitting touches down the sides of your body. It's the first time he dares to explore you, but you receive it well. The soft intent he places behind his palms leaves little flares nipping your skin in their wake. 

“You too,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I imagined you coming too.”

You snap out of your trance. “Oh.” Then you smile. “Oh. You like being a good boy, don’t you?”

Your hand slithers out to make room for your hips to bucket forward. He is fully erect and poking into your crotch. You both moan into the same loaded air. His hands raise to brace themselves on the trunk as he melds to your body, squeezing you in place with the weight of hard muscles. Your legs spread apart for him. 

“Let this not be a reason for you to–” a shaky ‘ah’ leaves you, “for you to disregard your behavior. I’m your superior first and foremost.”

“Yes, Captain.” He grabs one of your legs and lifts it to his waist, opening more space for him to ram into. Surprised, yet no less enthralled, you bend your knee around the small of his back and tug him in. His head finally falls on your shoulder. You side-eye him and see that his lips are pulled back, making a tortured expression like he's actually in pain. 

The pressure nudging into you starts to build, and you shudder and wail quietly. Your brain receptors are blinded by raw pleasure, thoughts mushy and zeroed in on Levi; his hot body, the goosebumps on his flushed skin, how built he is, capable of snapping you in half with his strength yet unable to because he is coiled around your finger. 

An incoming moan that would have otherwise gotten swallowed breaks into an open-mouthed whine as you’re lifted into Levi’s arms like you had the weight of a feather. You stand corrected about his strength. He doesn’t struggle to maneuver you, and his posture stays rock solid while you accommodate and get your legs around him. 

He is the embodiment of power, and he is also your little pet. 

The nails you drag down his back pull from him a sound so deep you are convinced it comes from his stomach, rattling your whole body; it kicks the blood circulation to your ears, drowning your wails and his grunts under the beats of your pulse. 

“That’s a good boy.” Your eyelids drip after the next thrust he lands, mouth hanging open with the weight of many pants stumbling one after the other. “If you can open your shit mouth for everything else, you can spare a couple of—fuck. ”

The back of your head smacks into the wood, but Levi’s hand is there to cushion the next hit. “Sorry, Captain.” His voice is raw, silencing your thoughts. You can’t even pretend to be angry, just silently endeared.   

“That’s fine... shit.” White flashes behind your lids, your walls spasming. “Are you close?”

“Close,” he whispers. “I’m close.” 

His ears are red to the tip, face buried in your shoulder. When you lean in to grab it between a soft press of teeth, Levi shivers like his bones were about to detach from each other.

He gasps, something loud and choked up. You almost finish right then. 

“Good fucking boy,” you mewl, wedging your tongue into the hollow dips of his ear, teeth coming out to nibble the lobule. His knees buckle, and he almost drops you. “Keep it together,” you encourage. 

“Yes, Captain. I’m…” A groan slips through his teeth. “I–” He doesn’t get to finish before the full force of his orgasm interrupts him. Your right leg is abandoned as he braces on the trunk. You balance on one foot while Levi plows through the array of sensations detonating in him. 

He softens, and your orgasm escapes in hand with your pleasure, replacing it with mild pain. You hide away on his shoulder until the discomfort passes, trying to keep your moans silent. It isn’t easy, but you favor this outcome over being the complete wreck you would have come off as had you gone all the way through. A cry was about to escape you into the woods, his name following suit. 

The tension slowly uncoils. You tug your leg down so he lets go, working with slow, steady movements to adjust yourself without risking the graze of an inseam against your still sensitive crotch. 

Levi steps back, his stare burning into you. 

You focus on fixing your cuffs, trying to mask your disappointment. “What?”

“I just—sorry.” 

You rear your head up in a flash. “What?”

“You didn’t finish.” Embarrassment shapes an unsteady frown on his face. He exhales heavily, battling his own thoughts alone, eyes shut before he opens them again with new purpose. “I can do something for you.” 

The proposal is enticing, and you’re tempted to accept. “Well–”

Commander Keith bellows in the distance, “Haul ass, you lot of fucking fish-lipped lizards!”

That signals the end of your fun. You completely forgot about roll call and the training exercise. The ordeal with Levi is changing you for the worse. 

You know what matters to you. You’re well aware of what you are risking, but you still want it, and you want it with him.

You sigh. 

Levi takes it the wrong way. “Later at night when–”

“Rather than worrying about that,” you chuckle. “You should be figuring out a way to hide this.” 

Levi springs back the second you lay a finger on his wet crotch. “Don’t do that,” he grumbles. 

“Keep the good streak of behavior going, soldier, and don’t forget what we discussed.” You wave him away. “Off you go. I’ll go around headquarters to keep it safe.”

Although he appears to want to oppose the order, he eventually relents. “Fine.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, Captain,” he mutters as if he lacks the interest, turning on his heels to head away as instructed. 

You weren’t sure of it before, but something has started. You thought you would put a stop to it and instead you fell victim to his charms. The worst part about it is that he doesn’t even try. It’s just there. Engraved into his character. He touches both ends of the scale without settling for a balanced middle point. You don’t understand the guy. 

You don’t know what you’re doing, but maybe it's working. For now, you’ll entertain the idea and see where it gets you. 

It will be okay. You are an adult now. The situation is different.

…right?

-

“Give it up, girl.” Hange lands a playful jab on your ribs with their elbow. The impact tips your hand that holds the glass of water, drizzling your chin and clothes. “Tell us your secret,” Hange persists.

You set your cup down and grab a napkin. “Secret?”

“You know what they mean,” the soldier across your seat says, propping his elbows on the table. “How the hell did you manage to domesticate that thug?” 

“Discipline, of course,” you answer. “How else?” 

The set of grumbles from those around you oppose that answer, papers long forgotten on the table. Duty will not end until every officer and squad leader delivers a clean and detailed report on the outcome of this afternoon’s practice. Erwin needs the information to analyze if anything requires an update. 

It has been about fifteen minutes since work rotated to gossip centered around you and your peculiar underling.

“We know,” another soldier groans. “But ‘discipline’ how? Give us the specifics, come on!”

“Exactly what you imagine disciplining would go.”

“That can’t be all,” Hange whines. 

“Except it is.”

Discipline and some grinding, to be fair.

Chapter Text

“You’re a naughty one, yes?”

He flicks his lidded gaze so it follows the slow descent of your hands on his chest. “I’m naughty,” comes laden with shallow breaths.

His white shirt opens wide once you're done with the third button, exposing the full line of his sternum to the sun rays coming in from your office window.  

“You're a damn street rat,” you hum, keeping the volume on the scale of velvet whispers. 

“I’m–” The tight sound of a groan shoots out like it gets punched out of him. He buries the small of his back into the edge of your desk, eyes flitting down to confirm if what he feels is true, and indeed, your thumb and index are latched around one of his nipples. His grip on the desk turns knuckle-white. 

“You’re…?”

“A street rat,” he rushes, returning to your eyes with the stare of a victim. “I’m a damn street rat.” 

A fourth button comes undone.

“You do know why I summoned you here, right?” Your cajolery loses its sweet nature. 

His response is a small, “Yes.” 

“Say it then.”

“Dieter–”

All five of your fingers bend around his chin to grip it. “What’s his rank?”

“Squad Leader Dieter,” he corrects, “reported me for misconduct.” 

You hum in the same way a mother would sound before her rascal. “And what happens to disobedient little pricks in this house?”

“They get punished.” 

“So you know the rules.” You release his face to wedge the last button off and pull the shirt apart, keeping your eyes trained on his silvery-blues. “You know the consequences of breaking them and you still fucking do it.”

Any reservations he had about letting you undress him seem to no longer be an obstacle you have to thread around if those blown-out pupils are a faithful reference to what he is actually thinking. Self-doubt and the innate urge of keeping himself together are but fleeting ideas scurrying to a dark corner in the back of his mind, ridding him of the last scraps of resistance he had and swapping it for a gaze that pleads as if he has dropped to his knees with his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, nearly whispering.  

“And you think that’s gonna cut it?” You scoff. “You were sorry last time too.” 

He can’t force anything out, only staying true to his apology by staring it into you. On the surface, he looks agitated and cornered in a way so new and raw you might have been guilt-tripped into feeling like a villain, yet the bulge in his pants couldn't be more of a telltale sign that he's into it. 

“Can’t fucking stand it,” you grumble, “when you look at me like that. Makes me want to tie you to this desk and ride you naked.” You pinch the same nipple you already touched, scanning Levi down as he squirms into his shoulders and moans quietly. 

It’s the first time you expose the front of his body. Since your hands have been over him before, you aren’t surprised by what you find in terms of muscle. His chest is the broadest part of him –still small next to the size of most men his age– but what he lacks in dimension he makes up with lean muscle. A lot of it. He isn’t the best titan slayer or the fastest bird on ODM gear for nothing. 

You stop stroking his nipple, now pebbled in your fingers, and neglect it to splay your palm on his whole pectoral. The flush of his skin is a strong rosy color on his chest, darkening the further it travels from his collarbone to his face, ending at beet red on the tip of his ears. 

Your nimble fingers dust over a long scar that cuts across his sternum in a diagonal line. You knew his previous lifestyle paved the way for fatal wounds and healed scars, but you are stunned by the absurd amount that is strewn all over him; milky-white fissures of varying forms and sizes marking from his neck to the narrow cut of his waist. You expose him further by pushing the hem of his shirt back. 

“If I told you to recount where and why each one of these happened...” Your private thoughts expose themselves as you glance up, keeping your touch featherlight on his skin. “Would you remember?” 

His gaze remains half-lidded, but the long pause between your answer and his shows his confusion. “I don’t–I don’t know.”

A thoughtful hum is your only reply. It’s best to leave it at that. His past is not your business, after all. 

Your fingers slide up, regaining traction by closing around his other nipple and teasing it. Levi writhes into his shoulders and clutches his jaw as if your actions were torturing him. Nothing is ever easily discerned with him, and it doesn't help that he isn't vocal or knows what he wants. There are instances where you can’t be sure of what he’s thinking. If he likes what you're doing or not. 

“You enjoy this?” The question comes as a velvet whisper. You keep massaging his nipple, feeling the little lumps that swell under the digit you flick from side to side until the tip is fully erect. 

He remains quiet, but the flow of his breaths picks up. 

You tug his nipple, emphasizing, “Do you?” 

“Yes.”

The same hand falls down his stomach. You indulge yourself by exploring the sections of his abdomen, jamming the digit of your index into pure muscle. “What about here?” you ask. “Do you like it when I touch your bare body?” 

“What are you on about–?” 

“Strike one,” your dull voice announces, intimidating without relying on power. 

“Yes,” he corrects in an instant. “I like it.”

“Your scars?” You move up to trace the longest one on his chest, mindful of keeping the curiosity in your gaze tame.

For a moment, it's like he doesn't know what to answer. “Sure…” he trails off. “They're everywhere. You can't really avoid them.”

You're thinking more about the intimacy behind your fingers, but it’s easier to adopt his exact line of thinking and leave it at that. It’s just touching if you both make it as much. 

You dust your caress over to his collarbone. “And here? You like it here too?” 

“... sure.” But this time he doesn't sound so certain. 

Besides wearing a cravat, he tends to button his shirt all the way up, so it’s your first time seeing his bare collarbone. The veins and bones protrude under ivory skin with pronunciation, stretching up to his neck. 

Where your eyes go, your hand follows. “What about your–?” 

“No,” stops you before you can touch his neck. Levi doesn't flinch, appearing to trust that you won't continue without his permission. 

It wouldn't have occurred to you on your own, though you suppose it makes sense for a former wanted criminal to be protective of it. You appreciate the new information.

“Okay, and what about lips?” You bring your mouth to hover over his heart, hinting with the warm puffs that leave you at what might await should he agree. “Have you ever been kissed by anyone?” 

“Mind your own business.” The fog in his voice scatters, now woken up and edged with skepticism. You look up and are met with his usual scowl. 

“You misunderstand my intentions,” you say. 

“I actually have no idea what the hell you're doing.”

“I'm doing you a favor.”

“By asking dumb questions?” 

The charged mood disperses, and without it, Levi loses his daze, defenses rising over him like a shield. He holds his arms over his chest, and unlike before, when he was slopped on the desk, his improved posture now leans against it with confidence. 

It’s best that you address what is slowly brewing between you while his mind is somewhat clear. Punishment can come later.

You shift your weight onto a leg. “So you're telling me you were thinking about getting into your first sexual relationship without knowing jack-shit about… well, anything, really? You don't even know what you like.” 

His shoulders twitch. “Shut up,” he bites back. 

“I'm keeping a mental tab, little rat.” Your smile adds a sultry veil to the threat. 

He grumbles incoherences under his breath but stays silent after that, as if having remembered his place. A pause stretches as he glances away to a random point in your office, continuing without the mental strength to look back. “What are you proposing?” 

You flick your eyes over the side profile of his face, taking in the smooth line of his nose and the sharp structure of his jaw. “My only condition for this thing we’re trying is discretion. As for boundaries, well, we both know I can set them up whenever I want.” You tip your chin up at him. “You. Speak.”

He thinks about it for a moment, maybe organizing a list in his head. “Discretion, obviously.” Silence. “Absolutely no attachments allowed.”

You nod. “Fair point.”

He gathers the will to look at you. “The moment there's even the slightest hint of anything, we call it off.”

“I agree.”

“Also–” He shoots a quick breath through his mouth. “Look, I don't care if you find someone else. Just tell me if you do because I refuse to risk getting a disease from someone I don't–” 

“That won't be a problem, Levi. It's not like I do this often. I tend to be private, believe it or not.” You have to put some effort into pressing a smile down.

It's in his face that he wants to indulge his curiosity but thinks better of it. “Okay,” he simply agrees, trailing off as he fixes his mental list back into order. “Stay away from my neck and don't go too fast. That is all.”

“I will need you to be more specific about the last one.” 

The click of his tongue cuts sharp through the quietness. “I don't know how to be specific. Just don't go fast.” He studies the confusion on your face. “What you've been doing is fine,” he finishes with less self-assurance. 

“Can I take your cock out?” 

His next words falter before he can get them out. 

“Suck you off?” you continue, enumerating nonchalantly like the matter is transactional. “Blindfold you? Can you handle overstimulation?”

“Blindfo–absolutely fucking not. What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Your chest jumps with the huff you release. “Now that's a virgin if I've ever seen one.”

“Get off my–” 

“You don't even know what you like. It's not a good idea to get into affairs like that.” You would know. 

“Teach me then.” His words are strung, antsy emotions slipping through cracks. “What else have you been doing if not that?” 

He is way out of his comfort zone, a situation you doubt happens to him often, and he is willing to trust you with all that he doesn't know. You're curious about what you might have done to make it work so well. 

“So I take it you're open to trying different things?”

“Yes,” he hisses like he's unnecessarily repeating himself, wanting to escape the conversation. He grabs the hem of his shirt and starts buttoning it up. “I already told you. Just don't go too fast and–”

You smack his hand off with enough impulse to make it echo across the room. “The fuck do you think you're doing? We're not done here.”

“You'll make me miss the mess call.” 

“Correction. Your actions cost you your meal.” 

“But–” 

“Dear Walls,” you draw out, rolling your eyes as you tip your chin up. Before he can react, you snatch the loose sides of his shirt and tug him in so his eyes line up with yours. “You just signed yourself off to the devil, little rat, and we are exclusive per your request. That means you belong to me, understand?” 

The frown resting on his face is more bashful than anything else. 

You raise your index to slide it under his chin, prompting him to inch his face up. “Understood?” 

He stares, either enthralled or defying, you can't tell. 

You step in, and his hands reach out, grabbing your waist to hold you against the exact point your pelvis buckets into. It won't take you long to get his hard-on back to where it was considering he didn’t go fully flaccid in the first place. 

The single finger under his chin is joined by the rest of your hand. “Understand, Levi?” 

“Yes, yours,” weaves out from a drunken mouth. 

You hum, rewarding his cooperation with a softer grip. “And you're my little pet.”

“Yes.”

“That's a good boy. Now stay put while I test how far I can go with your punishment, and whether or not you can take it.”

Your hand holding his jaw drops to his collarbone and slides down from there, passing over scars and heated skin before reaching his abdomen. Goosebumps form in the wake of your caress, shallow pants swelling his stomach under your fingertips. 

“You know what pisses me off?” you grumble, pinching some skin between two fingers and realizing he is too lean to properly grab it. “How much you enjoy your punishments as if you weren't the most annoying piece of shit the Scouting Legion has.”

His mind lags, mouth catching up to his mushy thoughts a second later. “I'm sorry.” 

“Fucking show me you're sorry then. Fix your goddamn behavior already.”

“I'm–” He strangles with a gasp, stomach sucking in while his chest expands into the lips you place above his heartbeat. 

“I'm not done speaking, so you're gonna shut up and listen.”

The force he uses to swallow makes his throat pop. “Yes, Captain.” His voice shows how little he expected you to mouth up his chest. 

You keep your lips light on his skin so it enables you to speak. “You're not a criminal anymore, you hear me? You're a scout. You're my scout.”

His heart slams into his ribcage, wanting to reach back. The tendons and veins stretching across his arms and into his wrists flex as he adjusts a tighter grip on the edge of your desk. “Yes,” he heaves. 

“Right, so behave like one.” You stick out the tip of your tongue and wedge it into the dips of his collarbone.  

“Okay.”

You continue to drag your caress across the expanse of his stomach. The lighter scars get lost in your search, but the deeper ones that cut the skin make small crevices you touch with your fingertips, and the few that are large jut out like little bumps in your path. 

“I expect you to obey me.” You nibble on a protruded bone, tongue coming out to wet the skin. “And I expect you to obey Section Commander Erwin. I expect you to obey the commander. I expect you treat every officer in this legion–no, the whole fucking military, you hear me? Treat everyone above you and below you with the respect a human being deserves. Show me you're better than everyone that tries to pick a fight with you.” 

His head hangs, unintentionally setting his mouth against your ear. “Yes.” The croaky reply worms deep into you, starting a chill that travels down. Your stomach churns. 

“You're better than them,” you say. “Better than the MPs. You can be one of the best soldiers out there. You have so much potential, Levi. I know it.”

Unsure if he's even listening, you lean back just enough to sneak a glance at the side of his face, where lidded silvers stray forward, quiet thoughts brewing behind them. 

“That’s right,” you agree in case he is yet to believe your claims. “So don't be scared to expose your worth to the world. Do it, and I mean that as an order.”

“Captain, I–”

You move in to grab some flesh between your teeth, cutting him off. “I'm not done speaking, soldier.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Are you, really?” You close your mouth on a different spot and suck, drawing a tight gasp from Levi's lungs. Through a smile, slithers, “You don't sound sorry at all.”

“I am,” he chokes out, voice faltering at the end. 

Your hands slide over his waist towards the back, tracing up the shallow line of his spine. “Because it sounds to me like you're enjoying it.” 

“No.”

You move down to his chest, blowing hot breaths over his nipple. “Are you lying?”

He tosses his head back and groans, “Yes.”

“Say it like you mean it.” 

The words don't get to leave his lips. He tilts his neck to watch you suck on his nipple with glazed-over eyes, choking up when he says, “Yes, I'm lying.”  

Your tongue comes out to flick it. Levi is quiet for the most part, but his body screams for every sound he swallows; squirming, jerking and bending to your will. You suck again before releasing him with a pop. 

“That's a good boy.” You step back to get a proper look at him, mouth tilting up with satisfaction. 

He is trying with whatever scraps of sanity left to keep up pretenses and turn his head away, though is betrayed by eyes that continue to stare at you under knitted brows, as if reaching out with the urgent hunger he keeps his body from showing. 

One sleeve has fallen off his shoulder while the other one bunches up on his elbow. His grip is shaking. You doubt his legs are doing as much work supporting him as your desk is. He looks like you could tip him off balance with a nimble push. 

A couple of pink bruises have begun to form on his collarbone. The light sound of your hum approves. 

“Look at you,” you coo. “What would Erwin think if he saw you like this? What would Dieter think, I wonder, after your attempt at smart-mouthing him earlier, hm?” 

He buries the tiniest of moans in his throat. The sunlight filtering through the window basks him in a yellow glow. 

You get an idea. 

“Let's find out, shall we?” 

His eyes snap open, brows woven into them. “What–?” 

You grab the front sides of his shirt and haul him in, backtracking to the wall so he is able to follow your steps. The frown on his face queries, but his body complies without resistance, pliant even as you steer him to the window, forcing him to brace on the frame lest he falls face-first into the glass. 

“What are you–?” He cuts himself off to glance over his shoulder at you. “Captain, what are you doing?”

You wrap your arms around his midsection and affix yourself behind him, propping your chin on his shoulder to admire the view like a second face on his body. The sun shines overhead with hours to go before it can kiss the top of Wall Rose. “My, my, my,” slides out like silk next to his ear. “How lucky you are. The fields are empty right now, but I wonder how much time is left before the scouts come out through the doors directly below us. You think someone will notice?”

“You’re fucking twisted.” He doesn’t dare to look at you. 

“And you’re fucking hard.” Your hand squeezes him as you’re speaking, burying the last remnants of your sentence under the sound of his groan. “Really hard. You like this, don’t you?” 

“No.”

You push out a laugh that bounces into the walls. 

From the corner of his sight, he glares. “What do you want?” 

“You forgot already? We’re in the middle of your punishment.”

“This is stupid–” A moan weaves into what he intended to say, a response to the up-and-down motion of your hand stimulating his sensitive tip. 

You roam his chest with your palm as if it were your property, pressing your mouth on his ear to say, “No, you’re stupid for even thinking you can talk back to me.” 

“I won't do it again,” he hurries out, eyes wide like he were face-to-face with a titan instead of a window. “I won't defy Squad Leader Dieter or any other authority.”

“Oh, I know you won’t. After I teach you a lesson, that is. I'm sure you won't forget it after we're done here.”

“Please–”

You close your teeth on the head of his ear and push your tongue out to wet the skin. “Wanna cum on the window glass? You’ll get to clean it afterwards.”

The scowl he makes is the first solid one in a while. “That's disgusting.”

“On the contrary. I think your cum would taste quite nice.”

He groans as if complaining about being embarrassed by his mother. “Stop that,” he murmurs, leaning the furthest away from your eyes. 

“I might lick it off the window if I feel like it,” you whisper, followed by your tongue teasing the dips in his ear. 

A shiver runs through Levi. He moans. 

“Oh, you're imagining it, aren't you?” 

“Shut up.”

Your fist stops moving to grip him as a warning. “Watch it.”

Levi smacks the window frame, chucking up a louder sound through his teeth. His next apology sounds utterly helpless. 

He pretends to argue with you, yet surrenders himself the moment you grab him over the layers of clothes to pump him. He begs for mercy but has ten times your strength and isn’t doing anything with it. This man is yours, and as long as you keep having the mental power over him, his physical prowess means nothing. 

You feel him pulse in your still hand, and he tries moving his hips to satisfy the need, but with a tighter hold, you reprimand him. Your mouth finds his ear again. “You belong to me, little rat. Do you understand what that implies? Your pleasure, your moans, your dick, your fucking orgasms; they belong to me.”

It’s like his throat unclogs with the next moan that shoots out.

“Say it,” you encourage. 

Struggling, he musters out, “Yours.” 

“No, give me the full list, Levi. What exactly belongs to me?”

He wants to curse under his breath, but stops himself at the start of ‘shit’. 

Your hand prods around his bulge to urge him on. “Come on, pretty thing. You can do it. What’s mine?”

A moment spreads to make room for his quiet stalling. When it is apparent you won’t concede, he surrenders. 

“... my pleasure is yours.”

You nod. “Right. What else?”

“My moans.” He welcomes his reward with a tame groan, pouring himself into your moving fist. “My–my… fuck, I can’t believe you have me talking like this.”

Your free hand rises to catch his jaw in a restraining hold. “Come on, Levi. It’s not that hard.”

“My orgasms…” 

You hum, encouraging his continuation.

“And my dick is yours.”

Not once did you think you would find yourself so quickly addicted to the sound of his deep, monotone voice rendered down to broken croaks on an even lower place in his register. You’re greedy for more. More weakness. More noises. More wails. Nothing brings you more satisfaction than watching the most difficult man alive completely shattered in your hand. 

You grip his belt buckle and wait, expecting, but Levi doesn’t neglect your touch, so you go ahead and unfasten it with both of your hands. 

The belt clanks heavily on the floor, insignificant to the eyes of its bewitched owner who doesn’t have the space of mind to worry about his personal policies like he did when you were urged to leave his jacket and cravat on the couch. You unbutton his trousers and finish the job his hard-on started by sliding the zipper all the way through. Unlike the first time, he doesn’t resist, but as close as you are, sticking to him from behind, you notice the exact moment his entire body tenses. 

You wiggle his pants down just enough to make room for his bulge, staying slow and cautious as if you were dealing with a wild animal. Levi is intent on locking his gaze past the window, glaring at the forest trees and distant landscapes like they have done him wrong. What betrays his grouchy act is the flush on his cheeks and the wet fabric of his boxer briefs. 

His hands close into fists against the wall when you prod some more. Levi screws his eyes shut and hangs his head down, hissing to avoid something louder from spilling. He shifts a little, and in turn, you move along with him, molding to keep on being the perfect fit around him no matter what position he takes. 

You switch from feather-light touches to proper strokes on a steady pattern of left-to-right motions on his tip, where he appears to be the most sensitive. You nuzzle your mouth on his ear, blowing warm puffs of air on his already heated skin. “You’re taking this so well, pretty one. Good boy.” 

“More,” slithers out through his teeth. 

You chuckle. “Now don’t get greedy. I’ll mark my own pace.” 

Your hands build anticipation in the meantime, sliding over the sides of his pelvis and making a quick stop on what you can grab of his thighs. He thins out from the waist down and his legs are no exception, but strength scatters everywhere on his body. Levi has an interesting physique, quite unlike what one would expect from a superhuman in the battlefield. 

He’s urging you with the invisible weight of a stare that demands quicker actions. 

You comply. One of your hands sneaks inside his boxers and closes around the base of his bare cock. 

Levi only hitches before completely freezing. Breaths race in and out of his slack mouth. His face exposes a mind emptied of thoughts. 

Only the flick of your wrist makes him snap out of it. 

His length is thick and searing in your hand. The mere feel of him makes you throb between your legs, your body recognizing what it wants and where, but you put out the thought to concentrate on his punishment. 

There’s an odd sense of satisfaction that comes with every achievement you get done on Levi, however big or small, and crushing another layer on his facade is a milestone in your book. 

You run your fingers down the length of his shaft, ghosting careful fingertips over the protruded veins with touches that have him squirming into his shoulders. Levi shows utter surrender on his face; lids fallen over his eyes, brows uptight; his mouth clenches, though has no reservations about letting a quiet mewl slip through his teeth. The last traces of restraint whiter away, replaced with unadulterated ecstasy. 

“A pretty dick for a pretty boy,” you hum, honey-soaked. “Fitting.”

Just when you think the sound of his gasp couldn’t possibly get any better, you make it to the tip, thumb coiling over the slit to press down on it. 

Levi whines, and it's a sound completely unlike himself: high, shallow and so delicate you could have silenced it with an exhale. His elbows give out, having to rely on his forearms to keep him supported on the window and avoid smashing his face into the glass. You marvel at the beauty behind his new fragility. 

Your thumb moves around on the tip while the rest of your hand squeezes and wanders. The precum pooling on his slit dribbles down between your palm and his dick, making your skin smoother as it glides up and down his. He shows fervent approval with another moan you receive like it's the highest form of praise. 

It’s a fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, but you might not be too far off in thinking he’s managing something similar with you. 

Levi flinches. A hurried ‘Captain’ snaps you out of your thoughts, and you heed the call with a buttery hum. Sudden movement on the other side of the window brings your attention down to the training grounds, and you perk upon hearing the creak of the entrance doors below. 

The scouts are coming out. Your smile only widens when you identify a familiar face in the crowd; the one person you know that uses a white bandana on his head. 

“Would you look at that?” you say. “Maybe Dieter will get to see you today after all.”

Knowing damn well you would go through with it, the look on Levi’s face is one of pure terror. He tries to wiggle his way out, but you ram the palm of your hand on the wall, and the sound of the smack is enough to freeze his movements. 

“Captain–” 

“Shut up,” you command, and your hand starts pumping him again. “I liked you better when the only sounds coming out of you were moans.”

Most of his attention has been stolen by the human figures donning the wings of freedom on their backs, who cram the fields one group of soldiers at a time and wait for the delegations of a superior. They chatter idly with each other, for the looks of it unaware of the little street rat you have on display a floor above them. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, breathless, as his arms fidget on the window frame. “What do you want from me?” 

“I thought it was obvious.” Your hand on his dick moves to draw circles on his slit with the flat of your palm. He gets the gist. You want him to cum. 

“Not... here.”

“You don't get to decide that.”

He buries a sound on his lower lip. “Please.”

You jerk him faster, dragging your fist from start to base without neglecting his tip, which your thumb teases with flitting touches whenever it draws near. Precum oozes out of him, layering a nice, slippery coat on his dick. His boxers are likely ruined by now. You could have taken them off a while back, but he told you ‘slow’ and that's what you're trying to do, even if remotely. 

With your other hand, you explore his body: his chest, his scarred skin that would be milky-white if it wasn't so flushed; his abdomen, all protruded muscles he draws tight when your hand twists in a new way he likes. 

A coarse groan rattles him, originating from a deep place in his core. The subtle grind of his hips lets you know he might have forgotten about the situation with the scouts below. 

“You're doing so good, Levi.”

“You're effectively killing me.” But he's not complaining. Only giving his take. 

His face sways forward like his neck has snapped, hiding from the window for a short moment until you grab his chin and force him back in place. The heavy scowl he makes is a blend of distress and petulance.

“You're not looking away, pretty one. Face the consequences of your actions.” You watch beside him as more soldiers join, hand gripping the base of his cock. “Imagine if they saw you like this. They'd finally know their strongest scout is actually a wanton, little bitch.”

He glares into his peripheral vision, but his voice is coarse and broken. “Captain, I swear I'll be good.”

You hum, listening. “Is there anything else you want to say to me?” 

“My actions were inexcusable. No one deserves my attitude. I'll prove you right. I'll behave and be a good scout, I swear.”

“The best scout.” 

“The best scout,” he repeats. 

“Someone others can look up to.”

“Yes.”

You press a smirk on his ear. “And my wanton, little bitch.”

“Yes.”

“Fucking say it then.”

You can see in his eyes that fighting back is but a thought he kills before it can show. He knows better now. His fists clench, but a sigh relents. 

“I'm your wanton, little bitch–”

You flip him over beside the window, feeling a warm puff of air on your face as Levi’s back makes contact with the wall. Your hand slips out with the movement, coated in his slick. 

Hooded eyes lock on yours, and they reveal through flecks of silver and blue everything he wouldn't have dared to show even if he stood naked in a crowded hall. He’s begging for release, quietly expressing he will take any scraps you're willing to give. 

The little bitch looks best when he's broken, you muse. 

Without disengaging from his fervent eyes, you raise your hand and let him watch as two, wet fingers disappear inside your mouth. Your tongue rolls over them, lapping up the mild pinch of bitterness like it's the finest, most expensive meal you could have afforded in Wall Sina.

Levi squirms into the wall, dumbed-down beyond recognition. His brows wrinkle into a tortured expression that doesn't even try to hide itself from you. 

“Huh, what do you know?” Your mouth tilts into a grin around your fingers. “You do taste quite nice.”

Something like a strangled whine gets caught up in his throat, shoulders reaching up to his ears. Your stomach flips. The shirt hanging from his arms only adds to the view. 

“Fucking,” you step forward, slipping your hand inside his boxers, “stop looking like that.”

He knocks his head on the wall, eyes slithering back as you envelop him in your palm. 

“You're still doing it.”

“I… can't help it,” he rasps. 

“Makes me wanna do unspeakable things to you.”

His dick throbs. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I bet you'd like that. Don't worry, though. We'll have plenty of time for that.”

You add more muscle to the grip and speed up your pumps. His dick is lathered in so much precum he feels like pure silk in your hand. Levi starts thrusting to build the momentum up, palms flat on the wall as he spreads his legs an inch wider. 

It's about time he gets a reward. You feed it to him fast, heavy-clad and incessant, gradually coaxing his orgasm out. Just when you thought he couldn't deteriorate more, you think the shine on his lashes looks like wetness from tears. He lolls his head to the sides, making it hard for you to reach his sticky bangs and push them away from his eyes. He's about to snap. 

“Come on my fingers, pretty one.”

Levi yields up his orgasm to you. Messy, destroyed, wheezing, no longer a shadow, but a ghost of himself, he rides through the ripples of pleasure like a man trying to survive a raging storm, squirting the result of so much edging into his boxers.

A cry falters before it can leave him. You stop, gaze flashing as he eventually stills into a heaving vessel of hot flesh and sweat. He keeps his eyes pinched, either passing through the orgasm or too ashamed to try anything else. His dick goes soft in your hand, and you release him. 

The energy in the air eases up without Levi trying a single twitch of a move. You start to wonder if he can really handle a relationship of this particular nature. God knows what might have become of Levi had you been any less considerate and gotten his dick in your mouth. 

“Right,” you say to fill the silence, turning away to walk to your desk. 

It's impossible to think he didn't enjoy it. Was it new? Sure, and you might have danced over the line, but he was into it, and you would be lying if you said the same didn't apply to you. 

Whether or not it's worth it is the real question. Is he worth it? Only time will tell. What you know is that you're worth the decisions you want to make for yourself. Long enough you've neglected what you wanted for what was necessary. 

You take a box of tissues out from a drawer, grab one for yourself, and pitch it across the room in his direction. 

He catches it, and as the shuffling noises indicate that he starts fixing himself, you keep your attention trained on the desk while you clean your hand to give him some privacy. 

“You good?” is a question that aims for respectful consideration without getting overly personal about it. 

“Yeah,” starts small, but then his voice grows. “Though you ruined my clothes... and why on earth would you get cum in your mouth? Licking your fingers, seriously?” 

You worried for no reason. The man is fine, clearly. Nothing is out of the ordinary. But you doubt he ignored your lecture. With the way it was given, your words must be engraved in his mind, and you trust he will eventually make changes to his behavior. 

“Oh, quiet.” The small quirk of your lips bleeds into a light sound of voice. You throw away the used tissue. “We both know you loved it.”

“The point is you swallowed it. What the hell? I didn't think you were serious about that.” His voice grows as he walks closer, arm shooting into your peripheral vision to set the box of tissues down. He stays near, so you take it as your cue to turn around. 

Save for the crinkles on his shirt you can tell didn't go without an attempt to get smoothed out, he is pristine, no sight of the broken version that put a completely different man in the same body. The only proof he was ever broken lies in the child-like essence he tuts with as opposed to actually scowling at you. 

“Swallowing cum is actually more common than you think,” you say. 

“I know it happens. Doesn't mean I understand it. They're human fluids.”

You roll your eyes. “I'll keep my mouth to myself then.” 

It's funny, though. You had never seen someone react this way, much less a guy with as inoffensive of a taste as his. 

“Do whatever you want,” he says. “I'm just warning you that I'll return favors without problem so long as it's not that.”

You humor him with a hum, crossing your arms. “As if you would know what to do with your mouth once you got there. Hard pass for me, sorry to say.”

As expected, it stings his pride, yet he fights the innate desire to clap back and instead holds his tongue in so it only clicks behind his teeth.

Pressing a smile to keep your laughter in, you head for the door. “Go change. I want you ready in five.“

“Why?”

You will try it out with him, a relationship or whatever he might want to call it, and if it fails, you’ll accept the repercussions. Simple as that. Not that you think it has to fail. Levi is stubborn, but he’s not evil. You don't think he'll sell you out. 

You show him your gaze, exposing the nature of your thoughts with a twinkle of amusement. “Punishment isn't over, pretty thing.”

His jaw slacks.

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Yes,” you say.

“You must be joking.”

“I most definitely am not. Stop being dramatic.” 

However, looking back at the flight of stairs going down, you can’t blame Levi for reacting like the lab entrance takes after a gateway into a caliginous dimension. It all boils down to Hange not bothering to light up enough candelabras to keep a room of its scale properly illuminated. 

He keeps glaring holes at the silver plate on the wall with Hange’s initials next to their rank.

“You don’t know them enough to form an opinion,” you say, folding your arms. “They’re great. An important asset to the legion too.”

He turns his head away from the inscription to set his couple of adamant eyes on you. “Why are we here?”

“Why not? It’s about time you interact with someone besides myself.”

“How is this relevant to being a better scout?”

“It has everything to do with it, actually. No scout charges up to a titan on their own, and even if you think you can do it, which I don’t doubt, Erwin’s formation centers around the opposite, that is: placing the focus on teamwork and trust. Two things you’d do great to consider.” 

“So…?”

“So in you go.” You nod to the stairs. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” 

“You just want Hange to get under my skin,” he mutters through his teeth. 

With his back facing you as he turns to the doorway, you let a mischievous smile crook your lips up on a single side. Though your reasoning is an authentic one, Hange asked you to bring him over when you had the time, and whatever that entails for him, you want to make sure he ends the day properly tortured, just so he debates longer the next time he considers acting upon impulses that go against the Scouting Legion guidelines. 

What better way to make him suffer than exposing him to Hange?

The moment Levi places a step at the start of the stairs, the sharp noise of numerous objects shattering on the floor make him retract his leg.

“Section Commander!” You recognize Moblit’s frantic voice that arises from inside the lab. “You fell asleep next to the oil lamp again!”

Items of varying weight and texture drop on the floor. The studier ones bounce against the stone as opposed to the fragile ones who succumb to it. A body shuffles around, followed by a high-pitched, “I’m awake! I’m awake!” 

“Captain,” Levi hisses. 

“Hange is a capable leader, soldier.” Your reply is resolute. Levi’s aversion is bordering on disgust and you feel well within your right to be angered in place of such a trusted friend. “You’ll realize as much when you get to know–”

“Section Commander!” The agitation exuding from Moblit increases. “I think your hair is catching on fire!”

A shriek shoots its reverberating echoes into your ear. “Put it out! Put it out!”

“Stay still!”

You blink, smug expression washing off. “Oh, shit.”

Levi keeps an apathetic expression written on his face as he looks at you. 

“Section Commander! Your clothes too!”

You push past Levi to race inside. “Hange?” Tension pulls your voice taut around their name. The rush of activity taking place before you makes you stop midway down the stairs.

Hange rolls among the mess scattered on the floor, trinkets, stacked boxes and unfinished products taking up most of the space, which leads to them knocking into the leg of the table. The items tottering on top fall over in quick succession, an “ow” given for every hit that lands on Hange’s head. Thin strings of smoke serpent up from their clothes. What little fire Moblit declared to be on Hange appears to have been put out before you could see it. Fast enough to not cause damage, for the looks of it. 

The breath of relief you exhale gets sucked back in when the oil lamp loses its balance and trips over the mess of papers lying around, spreading flames across the surface of the table.

Before you can react in any way, Moblit runs into the scene with a bucket you’re sure wasn’t lying nearby by coincidence and throws the water over the growing blaze. 

“What did I just watch?” Levi’s monotonous voice appears next to you. 

“They’ve probably accumulated all-nighters trying to finish their paperwork,” you say, side-eyeing him. “One of the many burdens of being a section co–”

Moblit slams the bucket down on the floor, though his way of addressing Hange keeps the formality prevalent. “Section Commander, if you would please stop spending your hours poking that tail so you could start your paperwork instead, I’d appreciate it. Half of the work I helped with is now burned.” 

You give up. Hange has a poor track record of giving good first impressions, so trying to speak for them was a battle waiting to be lost. It takes getting to know them to disprove the inaccurate assumptions their chaotic character sparks. 

“Just get moving.” You nudge him with your elbow, answering Levi’s glare with a stoic look of your own. 

The sheepish smile previously aimed at Moblit turns into a full grin when Hange’s brown eyes meet yours. “What’s up, Captain? Great timing! I see you brought your little side-kick with you. Just the man I wanted to see.” 

Levi doesn’t look pleased to know that. His steps freeze on the floor, giving way for you to pass him. 

“Hey, Hange. What’s this about a tail Moblit says you were poking?” You catch the mentioned man knelt down on the floor, shaking his head to himself as he collects the items that haven’t shattered back into a box. 

Hange is none the wiser, beaming at you instead. “I might be onto something this time. I can almost smell it!”

“Maybe it’s the smell of this pigsty clogging your head,” Levi grumbles behind you. 

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine as always,” they laugh with their arms crossed. 

You ignore him. “A discovery pertaining to the titans?”  

“What else if not those fascinating beauties?”

Without glancing behind you, you feel the neglect emanating from Levi. “What is this lunatic even saying?” he asks. 

You whip your head back, exposing your profile to him. “Levi.”

Hange waves their arm in a dismissive manner. “It’s fine, girl. I’ll get him on my side soon enough.” 

“You’re not getting anywhere near me or I swear I’m breaking both of–”

“Strike one, fucking rat.” The volume in your voice raises several decibels, cutting through the air with commanding power. 

As he clamps his mouth shut, Hange breaks into a fit of laughter. “Man, I love this! You really put a leash on him. Amazing.”

Levi takes his gaze away from yours in a brief display of resignation and ends up getting his attention caught by the state the room is in. Frowning eyes dissect everything with a quick but thorough scan. He scowls. “When was the last time you fixed anything in this place? The day you enlisted?” 

Moblit stops sweeping the shattered remains to glare at him from the corner of his sight. “I cleaned yesterday,” he grumbles, deadpan, before continuing his work. 

“Well, you did a shitty job.”

“Strike two,” you hiss, shooting daggers from your eyes.

He grumbles incoherences at a nearby wall, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide the heavy clench of his fists.

You raise a brow. “Not gonna say anything back?”

“Sorry, Captain,” sounds squeezed out of his throat, pliant like the apology of a scolded kid. 

Hange slings an arm over your shoulders to pull you closer. The sudden approach makes you turn a look at them, frown melting into a smile that reciprocates their wide grin. 

“I wanna be like you when I grow up,” they joke in a volume that is meant to reach only your ears. 

You laugh quietly. “So why do you have a tail in your laboratory?”

Hange tugs you to their table, where a microscope sits surrounded by burnt papers. “Feast your eyes.”

You find the dotted tail of a small animal positioned under the lens. Needless to say, you’re perplexed about their intentions. “What is this?

“A salamander’s tail. Hadn’t it ever occurred to you that their regenerating abilities could have something to do with a titan’s? Not me until yesterday when I spotted a lonesome salamander roaming about!”

You twist your lips. “You cut its tail,” comes out blunt. 

“In the name of science!”

“Walls, Hange.” 

“We’ll thank Clach for its services once we win the fight.” They wave you off. “Put its name on a steel plate or something or another.” 

Levi appears behind you with his head leant over your shoulder, scrutinizing it. “You named it?”

“Clach,” Hange repeats. “Means stone. Like the color of its skin. Salamanders can regenerate a wide variety of tissues. Same as a titan. It opens a window to possibly understanding this ability better. Perhaps even discover if there’s similarities between them.”

Your eyes widen with a small glimmer. “Woah, never thought of that.” 

“I knew you’d appreciate it.” They wink at you.

“So where’s Clach right now?”

“Basement. I’m trying to see if lack of sunlight affects it in any way like with the titans.”

Your brows shoot up. “That’s harsh.”

Beside you, Levi huffs. “It’s hard to take you seriously when you have a bug named Clach you picked up on a whim.”

“Clach is an amphibian.” Hange snorts. “Want me to lend you a book on them or do you not know how to read either?” 

Levi’s glare does little to impact the titan scientist next to you. “We’re not going to get along,” he bites back, slithered through teeth with venomous intent over the noisy background of Moblit cleaning around. “Ever.” 

“Oh, we will. You’ll see.”

“We won’t.”

“We will,” they insist, unfazed. 

The look on his face reads that, with a blade in hand and no laws to abide by, Levi would have struck out at them, the childish back-and-forth being the one trigger to blow up the fuse. You want to laugh. 

“If only Keith and Erwin had let me bring a titan home seasons ago,” Hange sighs, “I wouldn’t be experimenting on salamanders in the first place.”

You’re no stranger to Hange’s objective, but the twist of Levi’s expression into a heavy scowl exposes his thoughts: it’s the most ludicrous idea to have ever been brought to his attention. He gawks as if they have grown a third eye on their forehead. “Are you joking? You’re joking, right?”

“I sounded pretty serious if you ask me.”

His jaw goes slack. You can almost see the clockwork turning in his head over whether or not to take their intentions to heart. He springs his eyes from Hange to you, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for there, he flicks them back to the titan researcher. 

“So Levi…” Hange starts. 

Something clicks in his head. He steps back. “No, don’t even go there.”

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.”

“You want me to catch a titan for you. The answer is hell no.”

You take a second to look at Hange and the obsession brewing in their eyes for Levi. You were no less skeptical the first time they proposed the idea of bringing a titan home. Parading a four meter through the streets on the way back from an expedition would spur havoc among the witnesses, which, putting the scouts’ reputation into consideration, will do more harm than good… and walls forbid it ends up escaping somehow.

Yet in spite of the cons, through insistence, Hange eventually gathered support, got the project approved for fundings and talked to the engineers at Factory City into making the machinery for it. The biggest obstacle has been rounding up the necessary soldiers to get the job done without risking lives in the process. Titan-catching sounds straightforward in theory, but it requires exceptional talent and precision to get it done, qualities Levi dominates to full capacity. You get where Hange’s coming from with their proposal. 

They laugh. “It doesn't work the way you’re thinking, silly one.”

“There's a method?” he shoots with spite, then shakes his head. “No, hell if I care. I'm not some tool to feed your stupid obsession with titans. You're out of your goddamn mind.”

Just as you're about to settle a claim for strike three, Hange makes the first move. “I’m insane, you say?” Their usual loud pitch drops as they approach Levi, the latter so stunned he doesn't take any actions to protect his personal space. “I’m insane for taking a step back to study the whole picture? I’m insane for not raging like a maniac to kill those fuckers? Tell me, Levi, how were you plotting to slaughter Erwin?”

Moblit nearly trips with the mountain of items he is carrying to put away in a box. “Section Commander, I don’t think–”

“You didn’t just charge ahead and make your strike,” they continue, hammering the intensity in their stare through Levi who can only tip back to keep the physical contact nonexistent. “No, you studied him, didn’t you? You watched the way we worked, figured out our schedules, where his office was. You weren’t reckless about it, so why should we not apply the same common sense with the titans, huh?”

You have nothing to say against that, and for the looks of it, neither does Levi. His thoughts are quiet on his face, but they’re visible. Hange made him reconsider one way or another, even if for a moment.

It dawns on you that the main reason he got as impressive of a kill-count on the last outing was because he raged on the titans for the death of his friends until he had no energy left to spare. 

“Bottom line,” Hange says, then slams both hands on Levi’s shoulders to rock him back and forth with enough power to knock his feet off balance, pitch raising back to its normal state. “We have to catch a titan! Come on, Levi! You don’t even have to do it alone! It’s a team effort, you hear me? Do I have to get on my knees? Because I will!”

Whatever ounce of respect he started feeling for Hange washes away in a second behind the disgusted look that takes over his features. He recoils. “Get off.”  

The threat isn’t enough to make Hange falter. “Must I reiterate what I just said?”

“I don’t take orders from four-eyed ticks.” 

Hange doesn’t give you the chance to reprimand him. “Oh, of course! Silly me.” They smack their messy mop of brown hair with the flat side of their palm. “I shouldn’t even be asking you. It’s not like you have free will!” 

“Damn you–”

“Captain!” Hange whips their head in your direction. 

Your brows shoot up, lips pursed to kill off a grin. “I’m listening, Section Commander.”

“Would you be so kind as to lend me Levi for the duration of the next training exercise that I’ll be taking to the open fields near the forest of giant trees in Wall Maria?”

“I’m not a toy that can be passed around for your–”

You hum, as if thoughtful. “Tempting offer, Section Commander. It’d be nice to get the break. Do you really believe you can handle him?”

Hange swings a fist through the air. “We’ll be the best of pals by the time we return to HQ.” 

Levi glares at you with every profanity he wouldn't dare to say outloud to your face. “You’re actually serious.” He flicks his attention back to Hange. “No. No, fucks no. You can’t just decide this for me without taking it up to Erwin first.”

Hange laughs. “You really think Erwin’s gonna say no? Oh, pretty thing.” 

His jaw clenches. “Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, Levi! I’m so serious about this. I’ve never been more serious about anything else in my life!”

“I can tell–”

“How do you think we even know that slashing their necks kills them? Research is the answer!”

Levi isn’t given a chance to retort when Hange starts rocking him again, this time twice as frantic. You’re a silent but delighted spectator. 

“Please,” Hange says. 

“Would you–”

“Please.”

“I’m going to–”

“Please!”

“Stop–”

“Please in the name of all that is good and kind in this world!”

“Fucking fine!” he growls. “Now stop touching me!”

Hange releases him. “You’re an absolute darling, Levi!” 

Their following rant becomes background noise as Levi turns an exhausted look at you and joins your side, leaving Hange behind, who keeps daydreaming about their increased chances of success to the ceiling. 

“If this was your idea of punishment,” Levi mutters so only you’re able to hear, “I would have let you strip me by the window.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that.” You sound amused. “All jokes aside, your talents would really come in handy, or did nothing of what Hange say stick with you? I thought it made perfect sense.”

He clicks his tongue. “You just want to get rid of me.”

You pretend to slap your cheeks. “Oh my, could you tell? You’ll also be staying overnight wherever it is Hange acquired lodgings since it’s a long way from headquarters.”

His eyes widen a fraction. “Huh?”

-

Were you lying? You thought you weren't, and back then maybe the feeling was genuine, but you can't bring yourself to think the same three days later. The image of his face hasn't stopped invading your mind. 

Maybe you've been bored. For your sake, you hope that’s the case. Paperwork has been too brief for the long days. The middle point between expeditions tends to bring the most uneventful of weeks, and you’re stuck bracing through it at a time when the damn street rat has been absent. 

Your office is… silent without him, which is quite the statement considering how little Levi engages in conversation. What fills a room is his presence, and in your very particular case, you have the advantage of knowing him past a layer or two to make it more interesting. 

There you go again thinking about the man. 

You place your ink pen down and glance at the window, propping your elbow atop the desk to hold your cheek in your palm. The beautiful landscape outside loses half of your attention to the space your thoughts steal. 

You pray that Hange is able to keep him in check. With Levi, no one can ever guess what mood he is in. You would like to believe he is past the point of aiming a knife at people for the sole reason of being pissed, but if there's anything Levi has proven to you, is that he could do much better controlling his impulses. 

You can understand it. A life of crime underground kept him in a state of constant survival, where all he had to rely upon were his instincts. Breaking that habit might be a struggle after so many years of having it embedded in his system. 

As an afterthought, he looked especially captivating when you had him against the window. 

That's enough of that.

You leave the comfort of your chair and stretch your arms up. The sheet of paper on your desk has random doodles and scribbled nonsense. It sits next to an organized pile of reports you finished in the morning. 

You can't stop mulling over the fear that you're repeating past mistakes. A part of you wonders if you should care more about what's at stake. Maybe you're placing too much trust on Levi. 

Outside of your office, you take the key out from the hole of the knob and store it away in the breast pocket of your jacket, turning for the corridor to head out to the mess hall for supper. 

You have to keep reminding yourself it's fine. You're an adult. You know what you're doing. You're still here; just indulging in a bit of harmless fun. 

Tray of food in hand, you search for familiar faces and end up stopping at the table where Erwin and Mike sit among other senior officers. You set your tray down across the two blond men, who stop their conversation to give a proper greeting as you sit. 

“Afternoon,” you reply, grabbing a spoon to stir the porridge. 

The scout beside you playfully knocks your arm with his elbow. “It's been quiet around here without the little rascal, eh?” 

You tilt half a smile up, glancing from the corner of your eye with the spoon to your lips. “Really quiet.” You take the sweet contents into your mouth and chew. 

“Bask in it while you can,” he says. “Soon, he'll come back and you'll be doomed yet again.”

“Good grief,” you breathe. 

“If I may add.” Erwin's deep voice drags your eyes to his striking blue ones. His empty dishes on the tray were pushed in to leave enough space for his arms to cross on the edge of the table. “The results of your work have proven to be impressive. I could only go so far trying to reason with him in my own ways.”

You mock the sound of a laugh. “That's because there's no reasoning with him. None. The lesson needs to be hammered into him. He has to be broken, not bent. Brought to his fucking knees and–” You stop yourself before anyone can even try to connect the dots. A second spoonful of porridge flies into your mouth. “So yeah, no honeyed words for that rat. If there's anything I've learned, it's that I have to follow up every threat with actions.”

“Yes,” Erwin hums. “That does sound like it would adhere to his complicated character.”

You focus on collecting more food into your spoon, thinking of ideas to steer away from the topic you brought up yourself. “So the fourth squad will be catching a titan on the next expedition after all?” 

“That’s still to be decided.”

“Oh?” Your lips quirk up. “Hange won't be pleased to hear that.”

“It will all come down to the success of their training exercise. I'm yet to be convinced we can pull it off for the next outing. Not only that, but we have to see how Levi acts when he's shackled to a team.”

“That's one way to put it.”

“A man of his abilities is bound to feel inhibited by the normal scouts around him. He needs to learn the meaning of the word restraint.”

You hum in agreement. As a matter of fact, it could be a significant part of the reason why he's reluctant about forming new bonds. Unlike those who fight tooth and nail to keep up and survive, he's miles ahead of the rest with hardly any effort. It must be as lonely as staying behind. It's like he's cursed by an innate power that makes him almost immortal. 

“It's my belief,” Erwin continues, “that, when he learns to slow down and look over his shoulder at the people behind him, he'll have the potential to become a capable leader. What are your thoughts, Captain?” 

“Levi,” you think out loud. “A leader...”

The scout beside you snorts. “Yeah, right.” And the rest of the table follows with soft laughter. 

But Erwin can't be far off the mark. A man of his prowess inspires admiration. He has both the mental strength and the physical one, needing only guidance to flourish and become something amazing. Something that will nurture hope. A symbol of strength. 

The flash in your eyes meets Erwin, your smile lifting. Now I see it, you tell him, and his eyes glint back at you. 

“Yes,” you declare to the whole table. “He's a diamond in the rough waiting to come out.”

-

It’s a little past sunset when you excuse yourself from the table. With nothing awaiting you in your office, you head back to your quarters. 

The soft wind outside is pleasant. A bubble of light surrounds the mess hall, the fields around headquarters contrasting with utter darkness. You blend into the shadows between buildings on your way to the officers’ cabin with only the sound of your footsteps to accompany you.

Inside, you walk past your quarters and straight down the hallway towards the communal kitchen in the back of the building. Unlike the one operating for the mess hall, the residents here have only the essentials to brew a cup of tea with the added luxury of some privacy and silence. You all agree it’s enough, of course. 

Sudden yet familiar laughter cuts through the quiet at the end of the hall before you can get there. Hange, you realize while spotting the gush of yellow light pouring over the wooden boards at the foot of the entrance. 

You come to a stop at the door to take in the unique scene that is Levi surrendering to his partner's manhandling like he's a bitter cat stuck in the embrace of a child. Hange sits beside him with their arm across his shoulders, rocking him back and forth into them in some form of friendly side-hug. 

Levi does nothing but leer at the drops of black liquid that well out of his teacup on the table. 

“Yes, yes, so impressive. You truly are a specimen,” Hange rambles on until your presence draws their attention, whole face following in the same direction. “Ah, Captain!” 

“Hey,” falters from surprise before it can leave your mouth. Your eyes blink a couple of times. “What are you two doing here? Him, especially.”

Hange releases the tortured soul, who wiggles away on his seat. Even a thread of space will do it for him, so long as there's any kind of distance. He pulls his cup up, fingers splayed over the rim, and he sips. 

“What am I if not a scout that keeps their word?” Hange says. “I promised him quality tea in exchange for cooperation so here we are. The exercise was a total success –the best one by far– and he got his tea.”

You cross your arms, holding back a smile. “You bribed him.” In the background, you hear the main door creaking open, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps into the building. 

Hange shrugs, taking their own cup from the handle and sipping. “It was a fair deal if you ask me.”

“What are we teaching this man?” You shake your head, still amused. 

“That my help has a price,” he replies, expressing with the high might in his words that he thinks himself smug. 

“Watch it.” But you can't sound annoyed.

“Oh, and he even made a friend!” Hange pipes. 

It catches your interest, notable in the brow you quirk up. Before you can inquire, another scout makes his appearance. 

“What's this?” Erwin's tone rolls into your ears, the man standing like a muscly tower behind you. “Hange,” he sighs, dismayed yet unsurprised. “So here you are. I was wondering where you could have gone off to when I saw Moblit arrive. Why is Levi here?” 

The man in question clicks his tongue. “Why is everyone acting like this place comes straight out of Sina when it's subpar at best.”

The urge to crawl to him over the table like a rabid demon and wring his neck has your hands twitching beside you. There's only so much you can tolerate. Not so long ago during supper, you were lavishing him with expectations. You and Erwin were. And this is what he has to show for it. 

Your neck rotates with a slow pace that makes your muscles look like ice around your bones, stopping once your fiery eyes jam into Levi's. The silent words and feelings exuded from them elicits the smallest of shudders in him, which get exposed by the ripples of black tea swaying in his cup.  

He stays quiet, and though Erwin may have not been at an angle to catch your reaction, Hange slaps their grinning mouth shut with the palm of their hand, indicating that they have. 

The tall blond exhales a gentle breath. “It has nothing to do with the room, Levi. We can't bend the chain of command as we please. No one in the regimen can, and despite the leniency I allow for you as it is, here's where I draw the line.”

The bigger half of Levi's attention is under your possession. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye like a deer keeping track of a nearby wolf. “Yes, sir,” he grumbles, yielding to you in spite of answering to the man. 

Erwin nods. “Very well.” He places a large hand on your shoulder, drawing your attention behind you. “Make sure he returns to the barracks.”

“Yes, Section Commander.”

“Have a good night,” he tells the whole room before disappearing back into the dimly-lit hallway. His steps fade away as he climbs the stairs to his quarters on the second floor. 

Hange is the next one to bolt from their seat, smacking Levi on the back, who in turn glares at the tea that spills. “Anyhow,” they say, “the night is short and I got reports to write for tomorrow. Thanks again, Levi. I'll have the date of the next training session in the following days. Erwin has to see our results.” They flounce to the doorway and pat your shoulder with more mindfulness as they pass. “Try not to murder the man. We really need him.”

The mirth laced to your hum gives off a sarcastic tone. 

Their loud steps shrink as the distance increases, leaving behind them a room on the verge of welling up with tight suspense. 

You keep your posture stiff yet pristine before him, voice unbecoming of the storm that wants to rage in you. “I understand Hange cares little for formalities. The more you learn about your superiors, the better you can adjust your behavior, but the point is that you make the judgment according to who stands before you.”

“I know,” is a child-like grumble he shoots into his teacup before having another sip. 

“Are you trying to make me look bad in front of Erwin? Do you want him to think less of me?”

“Are you–?” He catches himself at the last second, realizing he was about to get snappy on an impulse that appears to be driven by genuine surprise rather than defiance. “No,” he corrects, now more calm. “Of course not.” And in that serenity, there's effort placed into assuring you. 

It works for him. Your shoulders drop with the quiet sigh you release. “Okay,” matches his tame energy. “Okay, good. Then keep what I said in mind.”

When you let up, the air in the room unclogs. Your attention shifts to the smell you pick up. A kettle above the stove calls to you with its strong waft of scent. Your mind associates it with the end of a day's work, spurring you with the desire to walk over and fix yourself a cup.

“Did Hange brew this?” Your eyes follow the steam that floats out as you pour the hot tea. 

“I did.”

You take it in your hands and sip. “It's quite nice. I would add a spoonful of sugar if there was any.”  

He places his cup down on its saucer, watching as you take a seat across from him. “You would ruin a perfectly good cup with sugar?” 

“You don't like it?” 

“No.”

“Sugar might sweeten you up a bit.”

He clicks his tongue, but adds nothing else. 

“So.” You set the cup down and cross your arms on the table. “What is this about a friend Hange mentioned?”

“And you believe them knowing how they are?” 

You shrug. “Something must have happened for them to reach that conclusion.”

“Nothing,” he insists. “Just a nameless scout talking my ear off for no reason. Hange's squad is chock-full of lunatics.”

“Quite the miracle this nameless scout wasn’t shaken out of their boots by your ugly scowl, to be honest.”

“I gave it my best shot.”

You snort, picking your cup again. “Oh, I bet.” A sip between words makes space for a short pause. “Maybe it's meant to be.”

“In your dreams.”

“What about training? How did that go?"

“It was fine.”

“Did you get a clearer picture on how titan-catching works?” 

“Unnecessarily slow. Like everything here.” 

You stop the teacup midway to your lips, Erwin's words from earlier bouncing in your head. Restraint, he had said. He needs to learn the meaning of restraint. 

“Slow how?” You place your cup down to give him your full attention. 

“It all seems like unnecessary protocols. There isn't much science to killing a titan. I don't know why you all make it so complicated.”

“Well, Levi. We're not superhumans like you, for starters. You cut all four limbs in the time it takes the average scout to lop off one. It's amazing, but it's not normal, and we can't adapt ninety-nine percent of the regiment to match the standards of one soldier, I'm afraid.”

“Then let me be and trust that I'll get the work done. Why do I have to cater to the commands of someone I wouldn't trust over my own judgment?”

“Because you're superhuman. Not immortal.” You trace the rim of your cup with the digit of your pointer, occupying your hands with an activity as you stare into his eyes. “You haven't seen the worst of it thanks to Erwin's formation, but there was a time when hordes of up to fifteen titans would jump on us without warning. Those were real bloodbaths. You've confronted three at a time at most, and I can tell you with certainty it's not the same thing. My point with this is that teamwork goes a long way out there. You weren't alone underground, and you for sure can't be alone outside the walls.”

He fixes his attention on the empty teacup, spilling quiet thoughts through rare, soft eyes as he goes far into his mind. 

Your expression relaxes into one of sympathy. You remember Erwin reporting that Levi had left his friends behind to pursue his goal of killing him. No one will ever know what could have been of their futures had Levi stuck by them. 

It isn't your intention to remind him of the cross he's bound to carry for as long as he remembers them, but in your opinion, he can give proper regard to their lives by acknowledging where he went wrong.

You'll leave it to him as food for some thought. 

“Anyway,” you sip your tea, “How were lodgings?” 

He seems to appreciate the change of topic, evident in how quick he is to follow with an answer. “Filthy as all hell.” 

“Must you have a complaint ready to fire away for everything in life?”

He shrugs. “You asked.” 

“Is there anything you enjoyed while you were away?” 

“It's not like I begged to be sent with them.”

“You don't like being here either.”

He shifts in his seat, looking away to mutter at the wall, “I don't hate it.”

“Oh, that's a surprise.” You tilt a bemused smile. “Does it have anything to do with me?” 

“Don't act coy with me. We both know you're the one I see most of the time.”

You lean your cheek on your palm. “In other words, you missed me.”

When his eyes spring back, you find dancing flames morphing gray into blazing silver as he looks at you. “Missed you is drawing the longbow.”

“Oh, sorry. I meant to say you missed my hands… and my mouth.”

He's speechless for a moment, then wrinkles his brows into a scowl. “You're starting now?” 

You lean forward on the table, voice dropping to whispers. “I bet you masturbated to the thought of me.”

A choked-up response audibly catches in his throat. “I... you–what the fuck?” 

“You didn't?” 

“No,” he bites back. 

Shrugging, “oh well,” is a light, almost inaudible breath as you stand with your empty cup in hand. 

Levi is silent behind you, the weight of his stare creeping up your body. You feel it without the need to peek over your shoulder. Something new stuffs the air, and his monotone sound buzzes into your ear when he finally forces out, “...did you?” 

You leave the cup on the sink and swerve around, resting the small of your back on the counter. “You think that highly of yourself?” 

Whatever courage building inside him backtracks, reflecting on his body as his spine knocks on the backrest. “No, I–” 

You approach like a beast in its den nearing a prey. “You're not dumb. I'm sure you've caught me staring. You must think yourself so pretty with the way I look at you while you're folding in my hand, hm?” 

His body twitches, masking the urge of gyrating to you. So with only the twist of his head, which then tilts up to keep the eye contact going, he welcomes your awaited return into his personal space. 

You fasten a grip on the backrest. “Well, you're not wrong, but there's only so much a wanton look on a pretty face can do for you.” Your hand ghosts over his cheek with the back of your fingers, feeling him recoil on instinct, though not away from your touch. “I'm not exactly impressed anymore. Doing all the work gets dull after a while.”

He dutifully watches. “If you teach me, I can do it.”

You give away a sweet laugh he takes into his lungs with a deep breath. “Pretty thing,” you speak with honey-soaked words. “If you can seduce me, maybe I'll give you the chance.” 

He blinks away the daze. “What–?” The rest of his question sucks back in when your hand moves forward, eyes following as you reach past him for his empty cup and saucer instead of whatever it is he thought you would try. 

“Seduce me,” you say. “If you want the prize, you win it. If you want your captain, you seduce me.” Your hand retracts to your body, and you steer away for the sink. “I'm getting tired of initiating everything.”

You feel more curious than wicked about challenging him, and frankly, it's about time you get something in return for all of the effort you have put in. His personal library is limited, but he can't say you're throwing him into the deep end with zero knowledge on what to do. If he learned ODM gear flying on his own, he can spare a couple of attempts on this too. 

Without needing to look back, you know those silver eyes are on you, trying to sort out the ways in which he can hope to lure the beast to him instead of letting it walk away to the sink. 

You are setting the teacup and saucer down when the legs of his chair screech against the floor, followed by a force that rams into you before you can even consider checking over your shoulder. You have to hold on to the counter to keep yourself from smacking face-first into the faucet. 

Levi's grip is knuckle-white beside your hands. The strength making his arms shake does little to remove the intrusive weight that is on you. His lack of bodily awareness is surprising coming from the same man that shifts through the skies with perfect accuracy and control.

He’s a human rag-doll squashing you between the cold of the marvel and the heat of his burning body, but you tip your head back so it nudges his nose, showing that you welcome him into your personal space and accept his attempt. 

He returns a shallow exhale into your hair that warms your scalp and travels down. 

You wait for more action that never comes. It only takes a quick, extra second to have you chuckling into the loaded air. “That's all?” 

“I…” 

You place your palm on his hand, having to pluck each finger off the counter to get him to let up. Under your guidance, it falls on your hip, where he doesn’t waste a second to curl another grip, needing that physical anchor to keep himself afloat. Your laugh rings in the air. 

“It's not like I'll be running away,” you say. “You're stuck with me.”

He has to push some thought into loosening his hold so it follows your will. You take his palm on an exploration across your midsection. His touch, although stiff, is warm and mindful, leaving tingles you're able to feel despite your shirt. It’s your first time noticing Levi’s slender fingers, softly callused and well taken care of. 

His breaths pick up, blowing into the back of your head, almost teasing your nape. To keep yourself from shuddering, you focus on ensuring his palm makes it to a breast. 

It takes him a quick second for it to set in, but when it does, he sucks his stomach, hand squeezing with an intent that is both shy and curious. In response, you arch your back until your ass meets the growing bulge in his pants, an action he answers with a quiet groan.

Your other hand is about find his cheek when a flurry of approaching footsteps disrupts the bubble. You both flinch at the same time, then he scurries off while you fake the action of washing teacups. A varying number of curses escape you in the form of incoherent hisses. 

“What–oh! You're still here?” 

Hange, you think, peering over your shoulder with flimsy nonchalance at the doorway. “What happened?” 

“Nothing. Just came here to serve Moblit a cup. We're tackling this all-nighter together. Is there any left in the kettle?” 

“You owe your life to Moblit,” you sigh, and face ahead to lather the teacups in soap. “Yeah, take the whole thing if you want.”

“What is going on here?” 

You swallow a breath. “What do you mean?” is another poor attempt at masking the situation while your hands work. 

They laugh. “Levi, stop scrubbing the table like it's done wrong by you, seriously.”

You twist around in search of the man and find him doing exactly what Hange stated. With a clean rag taken from the counter, he scours the surface like the tea stains were still there, like he were trying to turn the brown color of the table into white. 

He stops to flick his gaze up. “Shut up,” slithers through teeth before he pours all of his focus and raw strength back into the action. 

You would laugh with Hange if your heart wasn't trying to beat a hole through your ribs. 

They set amused eyes on you. “Try not to murder him, Captain. We need him! Erwin didn't seem to mind when he talked back. Give my guy a break this one time for me.” 

You huff, rinsing off the cups and saucers. “I'll think about it.”

Without warning, Hange reaches above your head, forcing you to tilt away while they grab what they need from the cupboard. Hange jerks back with a teacup in hand, then snatches the kettle from the stove. 

The overbearing energy in the air slithers away after Hange, who turns a corner and disappears down the hallway. “Play nice, you two,” they call all the way from the entrance door, which slams shut after them. 

You release a loaded breath. 

“See what I had to deal with for three days?” 

“Yeah.” You nod, acting serious with your hands on your waist. “I'm not sorry.”

He clicks his tongue. 

“Come on now. It's way past the call to quarters.” You leave the porcelain items to dry and make your way to the hallway, smiling to yourself when Levi's footfalls wait an extra beat before moving behind you. 

You’ll be waiting for his next strike. It’s unlikely he’d be daring enough to take the plunge tonight with how poorly he carried out his first attempt, but so can you stretch the game for however long it takes him to act. The whole week, if it comes down to it. 

Outside, the night is darker on account of the several unoccupied offices that no longer shed light on the main building. Most officers have retired for the day, either locked away in their rooms or huddled at the mess hall for some chow and conversation. 

Beside you, Levi is a black silhouette going down the stairs. You must look like one too.

The mess hall sits on the other side of the main building, its insides bustling with life in spite of the hour. You walk past it alongside Levi, heading into the darkest section of headquarters where it looks the most deserted. 

After the mess hall follows the cabin where ODM gears and equipment are stored under lock and key, just as empty and quiet as the men and women's barracks situated next to it. Your destination is close. Soon, you will part ways and–

Levi lets the thought boil over before you can reach your own conclusion. In a split second, he seizes your arms and pushes back, much too fast and agile to allow a response from his captain, not that you bother to try. Exhilaration blooms in your chest as you fall into step under his guidance, handing over the lead on where he wants to take you.  

Your spine knocks into the wall of the storage cabin with a thud that reverberates in the silence. The sudden rush worms down to where it feels the most hot and sensitive, your whole body shuddering in response. 

Hot breaths fan your face. You can almost taste the earthiness from the tea you shared. As close as he is, it’s a shame the moonless sky hinders how deep your eyes can search for specific details on his face, though if the hint of noise mixed into his breathing is of any indication, the man is more scared than he would be in front of a titan. 

“You're doing so good, pretty one.”  

You hear his nails scraping the wooden board as he balls his hands into his fists beside your head. Strung as he is about taking action, it's endearing that he's so hell-bent on trying. 

“I...” He lets himself believe it for only a slight moment before he shakes his head. “No, you're just saying that. I'm a damn mess.”

“Well, you asked me to teach you, and now I'm feeling like it. So tell me…” Your index ghosts over his cheekbone, then traces a line to his jaw, going over smooth skin you can tell he recently shaved. “What are you curious about learning?” 

He stalls, nitpicking for words he can feel comfortable saying. “How to do it for you.”

You keep your fingers dusting back and forth on the side of his face, feeling small goosebumps rise on his skin. “Oh, so pretty boy wants to please. Are you sure you can handle it? You've seen how messy it is on the hands.”

“That doesn't bother me.”

“We'll see about that. Fine, then. Here's lesson one.” You use your hand to grab his opposing one beside your head and pluck it off the wall. “You have to do something with your hands if you want to get anywhere.”

Despite the mantle of darkness over the two of you, you're no less aware of his eyes sweeping over your body as if they can actually leave physical marks where he focuses too hard. 

“Where can I touch?” 

Silly question. “Wherever you want.”

“So everywhere.” He might as well have been invited to have only the finest tea in Wall Sina with the way he sounds, like he needs you to repeat it for him to believe it because the notion is too surreal. 

“Everywhere.”

His curiosity wasn’t satiated before Hange interrupted the flow, and truthfully, neither was yours. 

He brings his palm above your breast and keeps it hovering, an act that announces his first choice. You don’t expect him to be a natural on the first try, but the high-strung forethought behind his every intention keeps you on your toes. Your body stays open, allowing him to proceed. 

Except he doesn't. His fingers twitch with insecurity, then anchor around your waist to fill the time while he gathers courage for more. It's a pain, you won't deny, but his concern matters, and it adds unexpected weight to his touch, as if it wants to burn through the fabric.

“You can just–” His tone is slightly off balance, teetering on shallow breaths. “Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong or slap my hand off. I won't care.”

“You're just touching.”

“Still.”

“Okay, okay. Just relax a bit, would you? You know you don't have to go through this if you don't want to.” 

“I want to.”

“Then stop acting like you're fondling an eighty year old woman and get on with it.”

His chin tips down, focusing eyes on the outline of his hand as it moves over your hip bone and detours to the back. 

You blink. “Oh.”

His palm freezes. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Now you sound annoyed. “Am I allowed to react to your touch?” 

“Yes.”

“Fucking on with it then.”

He shifts his weight from one side to the other, then settles on a neutral stance. The speed at which his heart flips in his chest is almost concerning. The strongest scout alive would know how to kill three titans on the spot before figuring out what to do with his hand on your ass. You take advantage of the darkness to roll your eyes. 

A squeeze leaves his mark searing over your clothes before it heads up to trace the middle of your back. His touch stays consistent and moves with precision, much like everything about him on a day to day basis. Brief are the times he shuts out his thoughts, and tonight won’t be an exception unless you push for it.

“It doesn't have to always be the same speed and pressure, you know?” Using your hand as an example, you take the back of your fingers over his cheek with a feathery caress. “Touches can be fleeting too.”

Levi repeats the same notion, boney fingers tracing soft on the side of your face. He gives off the innocence of a child that is learning a new concept.

Something stirs in your gut. “Yeah.” 

His touch on your cheek moves down, fingertips ghosting over the hilled plains of your collarbone like you were made of porcelain. Through the darkness, you nod at him with intent eyes, coaxing him into finally grabbing a breast. Unfortunately, the layers of fabric stun the feeling by several degrees. 

As if having read your mind, the hand on your back falls to the waistband of your pants and tugs your shirt out, enabling contact with your skin as it slips underneath. 

And, walls, is he burning. His palm is clammy, lifting so he isn’t limited to pressing in, but dusting carefully as well. You feel goosebumps rising into his caress, and when he teases the band of your bra, an excited breath escapes you. 

He inhales the small sound like it's vital energy. His other hand moves to join the siege under your shirt, dotting touches across your body that you feel as prickly embers on your skin. Though Levi continues to act slow, he isn’t as neglectful of his curiosity anymore. 

You feel him slip under your bra to get both naked mounds in his possession. He marvels at the sight that is your head lolling over the wall in response to him squeezing them. It encourages him to take that reaction and feed it. One palm kneads in place while the other worms around in search of the nipple on your other breast.

“... so annoying,” he grumbles, and before a thought can settle in your head, he's flipping the bra over so it bunches above your chest. 

“Someone’s letting up.” There's an added hint of breathiness you wouldn't have let slip if it was in your control. 

With nimble fingers, Levi undoes the buttons of your shirt from top to bottom, beginning to expose your breasts to the cool air as he works the garment open. It’s dark enough that you doubt he can see past the outline of your figure, but judging by the way his head hangs firmly above your chest, you can tell all his focus is poured on his handiwork. Such is his intent that he might not even remember you are both standing outside a dusty storage room. 

His mind doesn’t have the space to care about anything that isn’t what’s in front of him. 

When he finally manages your shirt off your chest, he dives a hand for the nipple he had already fixed his gaze upon and flicks it between his index and thumb until it pebbles. The sudden contact he inflicts on it forces your lips apart to exhale a wayward breath.  

Amidst the fog weaving through your thoughts, you recognize certain patterns and realize he has taken more mental notes than he lets on. A lot of what he’s doing tends to mimic your work. 

You force your hands apart, and only then you notice you’ve been digging your nails into your palms, though the sting is an insignificant itch compared to the sultry breaths skimming your nipple. 

Looking down, you find Levi heaving on it just before he takes it in his mouth. The velvet plush of his warm tongue sparks a shudder that sinks to the bone and slickens between your legs. 

Your back knocks flat on the wall, chest bulging into him with all of the air you gather into your lungs. Only the quietest of croaks escape you, but Levi stares through widened eyes that believe you have spieled divine words. 

“That,” he whispers. 

“... what?” You almost don’t catch it.

“Again. Do that again.” His mouth finds your other nipple, and it suckles between a careful press of teeth. 

“Oh,” slithers out. “Fuck.”

The hand clinging to your waist is shaking. His hips have traveled a long way from their initial position and are now beginning to rut into yours. You let curiosity guide your hand to the tent in his pants, then a gasp so sharp it drowns out a moan of his own escapes you at how little your palm gets to squeeze around him. His hold digs square-trimmed nails into your waist, and his lips let go to push out mouthfuls of air. 

“Levi.” You sound nearly drunken, still palming him over his clothes. “So fucking hard already. You like my breasts that much?” 

His eyes squeeze shut. “You're not–letting me concentrate.” He sounds upset, like you have disturbed him in the middle of a math equation. 

If discretion wasn't so big a concern, you're sure you would have snorted. “Good grief. Fine.” You let your arm fall limp beside you. 

“I don't have to come tonight.”

“You will if I want to.”

He clicks his tongue, letting go of you to stand in the dark with his arms crossed. “Can't you just let me not feel like an asshole?” 

You furrow your brows. “The hell do you mean?” 

“You know.”

“I don't know.”

“You're always doing more.” There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice, but you're starting to realize the emotion might be directed at himself. “I've finished more times than you have. Too many. You're not getting much out of this–this thing we have, and truthfully, I don't know if I can keep up with your score.”

You sigh, fixing your bra so the situation feels even a little less ridiculous. “Okay, look. I know we're people with benefits, but we're not so estranged the matter has to be transactional. Stop keeping tabs. I for sure am not. We know your situation. You asked for slow, so we're taking it slow.”

No words leave him. The slight inclination of his head hints he might be glaring at the ground. 

Smelling the moment is about to get utterly ruined, you push the flat of your palm into his bulge before it can get any softer. 

A raspy moan from him floats in the background while you lose yourself to your much louder thoughts. 

What are you even doing? Your motivation isn’t riding on the grounds of your pleasure. You can’t believe some tender part of you worries he could get stuck on an all-nighter mulling to his pillow over this silly matter. Though you shake your head at yourself in reproval, your hand slowly coaxes his hard-on back to its full size. 

The intent behind your action tumbles him forward. His head stays afloat over your shoulder, hands tight on your waist to keep his feet anchored. “You're–” he squeezes out, lids just as tight over his eyes, “doing it again.”

You hum. “Right, so are you going to give anything back or just let me watch your pretty face twist?” 

He groans in complaint, but his hand shoots down and worms between your legs without leaving time for hesitation. 

You spring like a coil that got released from a taut pull. An incoming curse disintegrates into a mellow 'ah' his middle finger punches out when it presses into your folds. He slides it back to the front, not dismissing the pressure, and you tighten a fist to smack those new sensations into the wall. 

His dick pulses. That's how you realize you've stopped rubbing him. You intend to carry on, but Levi slides his finger in again, grazing your clit as he heads to the core. Your hand pulls away from his groin to steal some support on his shoulder. The tight inseam of your pants adds fairly to his touch. 

“Good?” he asks, and if there was any light, you think there would be a twinkle in his gaze. 

You hide your response behind a whisper. “Yeah, good start.”

“If I go further…” he trails off. 

Thinking he won't pick his sentence back up, you answer the expected question. “Yes, you can go further.”

“–you'll guide me?” he continues. “... to make sure you come tonight.”

You take in his silhouette for a moment or two. “We can try, yeah.”

He focuses on the task of undoing the button and zipper of your trousers. Meanwhile, you try to keep your breaths even. It shouldn’t feel so nerve-wracking, but the territory has been made uncharted in Levi’s care. Even if you don’t shake as much as what he’s trying to hide, you’re feeling more than you were expecting to deal with going into this –in your gut, your chest and between your legs. Your mind fogs with what you can only call restlessness; the kind that cares whether or not you sound okay, how he would react when you present yourself in a certain way or if your face twists into too displeasing of an expression. 

The darkness feels like such a fortune with these concerns in mind. 

His hand brushes over trimmed pubic hair, and suddenly you wonder if that's alright too. He slides through your folds, middle finger particularly heavy between the labia as it gathers some slick from the center. 

You press flat against the wall, drilling both fists beside you. No sound leaves your slack jaw. Everything got expelled into the abrupt movement of your body. 

“You have to tell me what to do here,” he croaks, “before I fucking combust.”

You peel an eyelid open, struck by the way he sounds. Although you have no visual aid, his rigid voice does enough to paint a picture. The last time he sounded this deep and shaky, his brows were wrinkled into a pair of wanton eyes that almost looked foreign; cheeks dusted in a tender pink; breaths spurring in and out of his parted lips, which were plump and rosy from the many times he ran his tongue over them in his daze. 

“Come on,” he moans, bracing with his other hand on the wall. 

“Here.” You follow him into your pants and guide his hand back so the digit of his middle finger finds your clitoris. “There–oh, hell.” The effect is immediate. His digit shocks you like lightning to a tree. You retreat to slap your mouth shut, groaning into your palm. 

“Fuck,” sounds utterly breathless as it blows over your face. You can't tell what he's even reacting to. He rubs up and down, breath hitching when you square your shoulders against the wall, which is how you realize he's responding to your exhibition. 

You don’t want to prove that it affects you, but staying composed is taking a lot of effort. 

“You can move your finger in circles,” you breathe. 

“Yes, Captain.” His voice wears your title with an eager disposition that places you on a pedestal, and you don't know which dumbs you down more –him or the order he abides by– but you're moaning either way. His finger turns into satin while coated in your slick, and the circular motion evolves his touch from shocks to fire. 

“Go in,” you croak. 

He teases away from your clitoris to prod around, touching the outer side of the labia with the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger. 

Legs twitching, you smack a grip on his biceps. The applied strength your mind is too blurry to measure makes Levi attempt to draw his touch back. You whisper a chain of urgent no's to keep him where he is. “Keep going,” you nearly beg. 

He slides between the lips and touches the rim of your entrance. 

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding your head. “Yes, that's it.”

The first finger feels unsure pushing in, like you haven't let up enough for it to slide with the ease someone of his limited expertise needs. It doesn't help that you're standing, unable to spread wide enough lest you sacrifice more balance. 

“Wait,” he rasps, grabbing the meat of your thigh to bend your leg at the knee and open it against the wall, then his finger slips further, though it doesn't dare to reach too deep. 

You don’t know which action punches harder. His hand is hot while fastened around your thigh, and it grips tighter when your walls squeeze around his finger. 

The gasp that whizzes out of his mouth sounds as if it comes from a deep place in his lungs. His eyes watch you, intent and so fervent even though you can’t see them in full detail. They make your spine shiver. 

“You can go further in, pretty one.”

He takes it all the way to his knuckle, fighting your velvet walls as they hug him on his retreat, not wanting to let him go. When he pumps in a second time, your cunt swells even tighter. 

The pace that builds from there shows his inexperience through slow and calculated movements. Your bodies are on top of each other, chests melding with every mouthful of air the two of you swallow, and although you want nothing more than to be closer, your back reels into the wall because slotting even an inch forward would place your forehead on his, and that would be too much. 

His handling is still timid enough that you can will yourself to stay quiet for the most part, limiting your responses to speedy pants that shoot into the loaded space between you. He won’t stop staring, and quite unlike the way you would usually react, you catch yourself screwing your eyes shut.  

He coaxes more juices out when his finger retreats to the rim of your entrance. The shallow exhales spurring in and out of Levi make him sound raw and strangled. “You're burning inside.” His next thrust into you makes your walls squelch even louder.

You groan. “Add another one. Come on, Levi. Another finger.”

“You're already squeezing me as it is.”

“It's supposed to squeeze around your dick. Put another in.”

He shudders, thigh nearly slipping from his hand before he fixes a better grip. “You’re trying to kill me.”

His hand eases back to make room for his pointer finger, then he goes back in, stirring up wet sounds as he buries them knuckle-deep. Your cunt throbs like it's trying to squeeze the blood from his fingers, but the response slithering mellow and heavy through his teeth lets you know he sought it out for himself too. 

He pumps in and out. Though his fingers don't reach the deepest, the stimulation he provides shoots straight into your core, twisting it taut with a burning sensation that is both intruding and addicting. 

Just when you think you can ease into it without causing a racket, his thumb finds your swollen bud and presses down. 

The amalgamation kicks your thoughts into disarray. Any concern you had for the meaning of restraint falls under a fog that incites the buttery moan you hear pouring from your mouth.

He ruts forward on an impulse, trapping his wrist between your crotch and his hard-on. His chest lands on yours. Your ass squeezes into the wall. Levi is heavy, sharing the air you breathe, the heat, the sweat layering your bodies, yet all you fit into your messy brain is that his fingers are fucking you faster and his thumb won't stop rubbing in circles. 

It's a lot. A lot that is too good. You can't stop your arm from smacking over your head, a reaction Levi locks on and responds to immediately. He jams his knee on the crook of your thigh to keep it spread on the wall while his hand pins your wrist exactly where you landed it. Two of your limbs are at his mercy now. Not only that, but he’s claiming every inch of you inside. 

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groans like the thought is breaking him apart. 

He’s breaking you apart. 

The way he thrusts his crotch into you like it's his dick doing the work instead of his fingers affects you more than you thought possible. Your pelvis rocks back. I want it too, you say through the action. To have him inside, replacing his fingers with more heat, more flesh, more life. You’ve felt his length before. The rest is left to your imagination. 

A cry falters in your throat before it can mix in the air. The tortured mewl he gives back wears the same fragility that had taken you so much effort to lure out the first time. This was enough to make him reach that stage. He’s content enough feeding you without needing anything returned. 

“Please,” he musters out. “Please, please, please.”

You can't believe he's being louder than you. “What the fuck, Levi?” But you're not annoyed. Not in the least. You might be liking this better than watching him break. He's touching you and squirming like he's doing it to himself. You're going to fucking lose it. 

The dam breaks when his mouth finds your ear. So unexpected is his boldness that you surrender your voice to the taste of his name. 

Levi shivers. “Again… Captain,” he pleads, because even though you're tottering outside of reason, he wouldn't dare to forget his place. Your pleasure is his, but the control is still yours, even if you aren't sane enough to use it. “Again, please,” blends into the soft press of teeth around your cartilage. He dips his tongue in and wets the skin. “Please.”

“Fuck, Le–” You didn't intend to split his name between a whine. It would have been enough to deter you if your partner wasn't pouring his ecstasy into your ear like it's the most exquisite show a slut could have given at a club. “Levi.”

He mirrors every action you've carried out on his ear before. From his tongue wedging into the dips to his lips sucking on your lobule. Somewhere in the back of your head, a thought settles, that he's testing the same spots you have proven to be effective on him. He's trying to lift you into the heights he reaches when he’s in your care. 

The clouds start opening above your heads, milky moonlight bleeding through them. Levi's silhouette gains some definition, and the first look you come face-to-face with is naked yearning. 

What were once flitting touches founded in curiosity dissolve under a new purpose. His fingers start plunging into your hole, relentless with the sole objective of getting you there, and his thumb no longer kneads, but squeezes every drop of sensation from your clitoris. 

Fighting the urge of letting your eyes slither back, you keep your attention trained on Levi and the silvery gaze that pines for you. The sight is enough to make your insides churn. 

Your cunt pulses, velvet walls squishing tighter around his fingers. “I–I'm gonna…” You suck in a breath, unable to finish. 

“Please,” he implores with the resolve of a sinner. “Come.”

He lets himself get squeezed to a stop inside you, no longer able to ease in and out while you brace through the coil that eventually snaps. 

You can't think or breathe, so you just give it to him. Your quiet moans are his, your broken body is his, and so is your orgasm as you hand it over raw and bare, if only for tonight. The innate urge of keeping it together could have bought you some extra seconds, but you don’t care. It’s fucking his. He wins. You let yourself bask in the pleasure that consumes you. 

Levi continues to ram in. His movements have turned sloppy and desperate, hardly matching your pace. At one point you stop humping, too overcome with your orgasm, and let him take you trough it. He crushes you into the wall with the heavy roll of his hips. His knee shivers under your thigh and his clammy hold on your wrist tightens. 

You peel your eyes open and are greeted by the unexpected detail in Levi’s face. He hovers a breath away from touching your nose. The brush of moonbeams paints him in a milky glow, transforming the silver of his squinted eyes into pure cerulean. You will never get tired of watching his irises change under different shades of light. 

He's coming down from his own orgasm, a conclusion that settles as you feel his cock softening. 

You’re only beginning to pull yourself together when Levi slides his fingers out and releases your limbs to pull out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Though he would surely deny it, you catch him stalling a second too long with his gaze planted on the strings of fluid webbing between his fingers, entertaining thoughts you could spend the entire night guessing. 

He wipes his hand clean and folds the cloth so it doesn't mess with any part of his jacket as it gets stored back in its pocket. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You’re glad to sound more stable. Your head is beginning to clear. “Yes, I'm okay.”

You are getting ready to pick yourself back up, but Levi stuns your attempt by letting his hands fall on your waistband to wiggle it up to a proper place on your waist. He buttons your pants and slides the zipper, minimizing your reaction to that of an open jaw in search of words and a head emptied of thoughts. You remain still as he finishes fixing your shirt. 

“Doesn't look too bad.” He's talking about the wrinkles on your clothes. Figures. 

You snap out of the daze, and to gain even a scrap of control in all of this, even though it's clear he didn't mean anything demeaning by it, you take it upon yourself to jam the hem of your shirt into your pants. 

Bluish-silver sinks into you, keeping up to your every move. You were right about your assumptions when it was dark. The invisible weight of his gaze is the same now as it was then. He makes you feel naked. Not because it judges, but because it secretly reveres. 

Disrupting his silent contemplation, you clear your throat. “That's enough of that. Return to the barracks before–”

“How was it?” 

Your answer to that gets tangled up in your mouth. The work itself needs polishing, and you probably wouldn't have finished had the same been done by anyone else. 

The issue is it was him. His eagerness, his sounds, his expressions; all of it combined made you into a complete wreck. 

Act to his face. 

You shrug. “We'll get you there.”

And instead of stinging his pride as intended, he nods like a man who has taken up the mission of a lifetime. 

Chapter Text

The fields bustle with movement as squadrons of soldiers finish preparations alongside their respective leaders for the upcoming expedition. The routine is the same every four to six weeks, involving stock-count, absurd amounts of permits and documentation, arrangements within the legion, among other pesky details and formalities, now with the added commitment of memorizing a new style of formation and carrying out Hange’s project.

Though you understand that the success of catching a titan relies mostly on Levi’s participation, you are no less entitled to the time you need with him. He will be under your command for the bigger part of the expedition, more importantly, as you ride to and from the walls. Levi’s vital duty to your squad has not been stressed enough since Hange began stealing him from you.

With only so many hours to go before daybreak, you have decided to snatch Levi back from the Fourth Squad regardless of the business they find themselves in. It’s a known fact that Levi struggles with teamwork. Your squad feels unsure about working with him, understandably so. They haven’t been properly introduced to one another. 

You have your work cut out for you if you want tomorrow’s expedition to run smoothly for your section. 

Hange has been bold enough to suggest you might be overreacting. Can anyone blame you? Erwin may have gained a human spear for the legion on the last expedition, but you’re convinced his survival came at the flip of a coin. Levi was unhinged from start to finish, and you’re in charge of holding the leash this time around while simultaneously commanding a squad with the added threat of titans in every corner of the perimeter. 

You are quick to find him outside placing the second scabbard of his gear on the floor. Not only is Levi adept with the instrument, but he exudes profound knowledge down to the way he holds it. The gentleness he applies would make any witnesses think it is unlike his character. 

Behind him, an incoming soldier grabs your attention. Although he doesn’t appear to be putting any effort on stealth, Levi is none the wiser about his approach, much too focused on shedding his gear. 

It takes you some seconds as a distant spectator to recognize the soldier of fairly average traits. He’s the nameless scout from Hange’s section that Levi had no interest in mentioning the last time you asked. 

Your days have been split between fieldwork and paperwork the last couple of weeks, so you haven’t been able to figure anything out for yourself besides the one time you witnessed from your office window the amusing sight that was this nameless scout dragging Levi to the mess hall against the latter’s will. 

The satisfied smile brightening your expression drops when Levi recoils from the hand this nameless scout places on his nape. You don’t detect any malicious intent from him. It’s the friendly approach of one man to another, but a second flashes before Levi has the poor guy caught in a headlock. You only manage a blink. 

The confusion plastered on the scout’s face doesn’t leave him with enough space of mind to wriggle out or attempt any kind of struggle. The nearby soldiers come to his aid without daring to get close, intent on declaring that the victim has done nothing to warrant the attack. 

Neither of you needed this extra problem mere hours before going outside the walls. 

The succession of events takes a brief number of seconds at most. Several outcomes, none of which could end in a remotely positive manner, set your mind in a frenzy, and so you run to join the scene, unfaltering even after Levi releases the scout. 

The surrounding soldiers look like they would condemn him to the gallows. Their desire is palpable even from where you are. 

Only the frown on his troubled face cools your anger. The brief confusion weaved into the quick glances he darts from one face to another remains invisible to the untrained eye, but you know better, and it clicks. Levi reacted to protect a boundary that, unlike the nameless scout, you have the advantage of knowing. 

Your initial disappointment morphs into comprehension, calming your step for the remainder of the distance that is left to cross. 

The nameless scout is quick to brush it off with the sway of his hand and a dismissive smile that urges the group to follow him away from Levi. You notice him glancing back at the lonely scout that is being left behind. Traces of genuine concern soften his expression before he returns his attention to the front. 

Levi protects himself behind an impenetrable mask that blocks out any feelings. He crouches before his equipment, intending to continue his previous activity when the sight of you stops him mid movement and he snaps up into a rigid stance. “You saw.” 

“I did.” You stop at an arm’s length from him, keeping your posture open and relaxed so it encourages him to do the same. “Stand down, Levi. I’m not upset.”

The drop of his shoulders is nearly imperceptible. “You’re not.” His response wants to be a neutral statement yet concludes with the brief tone of a question. 

“I already knew about your boundaries.” 

You challenge his personal walls with your approach, and Levi doesn’t know how to respond. He fights himself to avoid looking so strung.

Your heart softens with sympathy. “I hope you understand that your friend didn’t mean anything vicious by it.” 

“Neither did I. I just…” 

“Reacted.”

He doesn’t answer, letting his eyes confirm what won’t leave his mouth. For a slight moment, it looks like he tries to safeguard himself in your gaze, but the sound of murmurs disrupts his attention and pulls it to the side. Yours follows to where a small group of onlookers glare at him from a distance. They turn back to each other upon realizing they have been spotted. 

Levi sighs. “I ruined it, I know.” A dispirited sound betrays his stoic mask. 

“The situation can still be helped.” 

“How?”

“Apologizing.”

He tuts at you. “To them?” 

“Your friend,” you chuckle.

“He’s not–” A quick sigh cuts through the sentence. He averts his eyes to the trees, grumbling quietly as if the remark is to himself, “He’s making a mistake.”

The brief tilt of your head divulges your curiosity. You fold your arms over your chest. “How so?” 

“By trying to get close. That mushy stuff doesn’t work for anyone when it comes to me.”

Your brows twitch into your eyes for a quick second, unbridled thoughts messing with your head as you attempt to decipher his words. Nothing rational comes to mind. “What are you trying to say?” 

He is quick to tuck himself back inside his shell. Perhaps the added edge to your voice had something to do with it. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head to dismiss you. 

“It’s fine if it is something, Levi.”

His eyes offer a couple of blinks. “Are you–? You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“That talk you do.” He swings his hand up and down at you like it would help get his point across. “The… sympathy–or understanding. I don’t know.” 

“Oh,” you laugh quietly. “That.” 

People assume that the fiery passion in the heart of a scout means the entire legion is built upon impenetrable rock. Reality is quite different. Scouts wear their hearts on their sleeves from the moment they set their minds on joining the Survey Corps. 

There’s a taste of everything here, from disciplined men to conceited brats, but you don’t discriminate against what anyone's going through. The younger scouts are always the most vulnerable. 

Levi is a special case on his own. He denies help, resents the slightest hint of sympathy directed his way and blocks out anyone who tries to get close. You wonder if by now you have knocked on his door enough times to earn the slightest of peeks into his thoughts. 

As if having read your mind, he shakes his head. “No one’s problems are your burden to deal with.”  

“I don’t carry the burden for anyone. I just ease up the weight by lending an ear. You’d be surprised by how much it helps a lot of newbies.” You give him some time to assimilate your words. “Is there anything you feel like letting out?” 

“No.” His answer is immediate and absolute. 

“Okay.” You hide your disappointment under a light tone. “I respect that, of course.” 

Despite his grouchy disposition, you’re the owner of his whole attention. He opens his body to you in very narrow and specific ways, such as the watchful silvers he trains on you like they were hunting for a piece of your thoughts. They fall on your smile for only a second before he returns them to your eyes.

His contemplation is pulled away from you and placed past his shoulder. You find the same group of scouts just as they are done averting their gazes from Levi. Their quiet murmurs are brought to your attention. They must be wondering why you’re taking so long to sanction him. 

He clicks his tongue. “Judging and staring like I’m an animal in a cage.” It’s the first time he so much as hints that the attention bothers him at all. 

You stay soft and open for him, offering a safe space. “It takes a lot to know you. Getting you to talk, for starters.” 

“I shouldn’t be obligated to tell them anything just to get them to stop.”

“Yes, you have a point.” You shrug. “But you must understand they have the absolute misfortune of knowing only the stubborn side of your character.”

His head tilts an inch to the side, exposing honest curiosity. “I have another side?”

You suppress a smile. “I think I’ve caught a peek.”

“What is it then?”

“The one that makes you my wanton, little bi–”

Levi scoffs. “I should have known.”

“But,” you weave into the laugh that escapes you, which stops him just shy of taking his glare elsewhere. “You also have softness in your heart.”

“Soft.” He tastes the word like it's foreign. “No one’s ever used that to describe me.” 

“One has to squint their eyes, wipe those glasses clean, grab that microscope, try to crawl a bit closer and–”

“You’re feeling humorous today, aren’t you?” he snaps back, but you’ve witnessed what true displeasure looks like on Levi and he’s showing you a poor performance of it.  

You expel one last chuckle before calming down, though the lingering emotions transfer into a bright sound of voice. “It’s there,” you reassure. “I know it.” 

“If you say so.” 

You know it’s there. You have seen it in stutters, in flitting glances, in touches so tender they could pass for a breeze; you see it when he submits himself to overbearing personalities; it was there when he fixed your clothes for you; when he minds your comfort over his own. 

“Yes,” you affirm. “I do say so. That’s why you’re going to talk to your friend and mend the situation.”

“Ah, I see now. This whole talk was a ruse.”

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t say these things to you if I didn’t mean them. If you want people to stop assuming the worst about the mysterious former criminal from the underground that no one knows about, you might wanna start letting up a little.”

He mulls your words, studying you like the answer to all his troubles could be found in your irises. There's no insight into his thoughts other than the relaxed expression on his face that tells you the conversation has helped him in some way, even if it means lulling his worries to only temporary silence. 

“Do you assume the worst of me?” He tries to seem uninterested, but when his head turns away, his eyes still seek you out from the corner of his sight. 

“I don't assume the worst of the Levi that I can say I somewhat know, and this… ” You cut the distance between you short and stretch out your pointer finger to poke his chest. Levi only follows the action with his gaze. “... is the Levi that matters to me. You were given a second chance at life. Take it.”

“I'm still me,” he grumbles, visibly confused. 

“A wiser version of you. That's the beauty of experience, you see. And the beauty of being human. We're always evolving.” You take your hand back to cross it with the other on your chest, though you remain in place, teasing the border of his personal space. 

You have heard stories. Rumors. The bigger part of his criminal record is on paper after all. He tried to kill Erwin, and it's likely he has taken people's lives before. The scouts have every right to be wary, more so when they haven't been given enough reasons to relax around him. 

Then you think about the Levi you see on a daily basis; his silly and completely harmless antics like the way he holds his teacup or his obsession with order and hygiene. Out of every possible indulgence, he chooses tea without sugar. He gets awkward over the most mundane concepts, and he struggles so hard in conversation when it revolves around feelings. 

That's how you know there's another side to him. One he buried because he needed to survive. 

Levi shifts his weight from one side to the other. It looks like he wants to say something, so you stay quiet, giving him the time to assemble words. His gaze flips in different directions. He could be shy about what he wants to divulge. 

He clears his throat. “Old farts underground would come up to me when I was kid,” through monotone utterances, he tries to take the importance away from this topic, “and hold me from the neck like I was a dog.”

It's sudden, and the dots don't connect no matter how intently you look at Levi, who doesn't know how else to guide the conversation or explain himself. He only watches, waiting for you to catch up. 

The thought that he was once a child adheres to you the most. However obvious, you're struggling to imagine a time where Levi was defenseless, perhaps even frightened. 

“I see.” You wish you could add something useful, but Levi's intentions are unclear. You doubt he's after advice. Maybe he wants to be heard.

“A lot of people come after your neck down there, I'm sure you can already assume,” he says. “That wasn't a problem after I learned to protect my worth. But before that I was…” He searches for the right word, that or he's avoiding it.

“Helpless,” you finish for him. 

Levi doesn't want to confirm it, but neither does he deny it. He clears his throat to fill the silence, then concludes with, “So that's the reason.”

He felt compelled to tell you why he reacted when the nameless scout approached him out of the blue. You have been interacting for a month and it still took this entire conversation to get him to let up. 

“You don't have to divulge anything personal, Levi. Just explain that you don't react well to being sneaked up on.”

He sighs. “I have no idea what to do. I don't start conversations.”

“We talk. It's the same thing.”

“It's not. You're–” he clicks his tongue, “It's not the same thing. It's different.” 

You choose to indulge yourself. “Different how?” 

“Easier.” His shoulders jerk with the smallest of movements, silver eyes trained on the smile that rises into your cheeks. He glances away, tutting like a child. “Damn you. You're doing it.”

You laugh. “What?”

“Making me expose myself.”

“It's the first time I hear it being said like that.”

“Because that's what it is.”

“I'm only a good listener.”

“I know,” he grumbles. “Fine, you win. I'll apologize.” He turns his head away before the hint of shyness that bleeds into his face exposes him further. The rest of his body follows the same direction and he walks off, denying you the chance of adding anything. 

Satisfaction paints your face as you watch him leave. You know he's changing for the better. The progress is slow and meticulous, but denying its existence would be as foolish as suggesting any part of him is unsanitary. 

You are relieved. There was always the fear in the back of your mind that the circumstances of your relationship would have soiled his perspective of you, something you've been fighting to prevent with your occasional dose of ruthlessness. 

You forgot why you came up to him in the first place. That meeting with the squad will have to wait more. Noon is fast approaching and you have your own duties to see through. 

It shouldn't be long before you see Levi again, though. You are on stock-count duty. No soldier is ever dismissed without first returning the military’s most prized equipment to storage. It's indispensable that the numbers match the ones written on paper, especially with the expedition right around the corner. 

The storage room is adjacent to a building of slightly bigger proportions. Inside, tables that can fit pairs of soldiers are lined up across the otherwise unoccupied space. Gear maintenance takes place here. A soldier is pushed everyday to care for their equipment. It is the heart of the Scouting Legion after all; a rare item to come by outside of the military and the only chance humanity has against the titans.

You meet up with a female officer at the front of the room, where a desk sits before a large chalkboard positioned against the center portion of the wall. Expressing a quick greeting, you grab a clipboard from atop the desk and turn for the doors just as they slide open to allow a multitude of scouts inside. 

In an orderly fashion, they make their way in pairs to a table where they can lay out their ODM gear. The same action is repeated for each soldier that arrives until every figure in the room stands at attention with the distinctive salute of the military pounding against their chests. They are the last section in the process of getting dismissed, and they must be eager to have the rest of the afternoon to themselves. 

You step forward. “At ease, soldiers.” 

In response to your voice, the hand on everyone’s chest falls behind them to lock with the other one on their lower back. 

“We'll make this quick,” you reassure, then glance at the officer beside you to give her a nod, stating the all-clear to commence. She heads for the two squadrons in the back rows while you take charge at the front. 

The first soldier in line corrects his posture upon your arrival. He gives you his full name, squadron and rank, waiting as you run your eyes over the list depicting every soldier from Hange's section on record. You steal a peek at his ODM gear, pleased to note it’s been well taken care of and polished recently. 

“How's performance?” you ask once you find his name. 

“Optimal.” His resonance carries the will of a proper soldier. 

“When was the last time it had any maintenance?” 

“I gave it a few touches at the start of the week to smoothen out the hand grips.”

Nodding, you mark the respective boxes beside his name and proceed to the next one in line. 

The process is inherently straightforward. You get the name of the soldier and ask the same questions. It's to be expected that every scout presents their gear in top condition. You finish the first row without plight and head on to the next one with the same procedures in mind. 

Sudden whispers disturb the exchange you're having with the third scout in line. A male standing two columns down is talking to his peer. You try to ignore him at first, but it isn't long before you have to speak over loud murmurs. It's like he forgot to mind where he stands. 

“Soldier,” you call, slinking your head out to peek beside the scout in front of you. 

The man in question clamps his mouth shut. You leer at him for only a short moment before your attention is caught by the soldier standing beside him. 

Levi is another replica in the crowd, except he’s the only one relaxed into his stance, following protocols without pandering to them excessively. 

You will take it. Levi's essence will never change and that's fine too. You don't need him to be a carbon copy so long as he respects the principles of the military and abides by the instructions of his superiors. 

He keeps his head forward, only watching you from the corner of his eye. You wouldn't call him nervous, but he's wary of any action you might take. 

“Apologies, Captain,” the one beside him says. 

You turn your attention to the nameless scout. No one else would be bold enough to rant to Levi, much less risk insubordination for it. 

The fact there is anyone interested in befriending him is a huge milestone you don't want to soil. Levi must have mended the situation with him before coming here, and you're too pleased about that to mind. A warning should do enough. 

“Unsolicited comments are not allowed until you're all dismissed. Surely, you can wait five more minutes?” 

“Yes, Captain.”

It's quiet again after that. No soldier dares to look away from the front, even those whose curiosity has them peeking from the side of their vision. You proceed with the task at hand. 

“Finally someone that can shut you up,” Levi mutters to the nameless scout.

“You asked.”

“It was a yes or no question. I didn't need to hear the whole life story of your pet cricket and the cat that ate it.”

“That was for context.”

You clear your throat, and both men disrupt the exchange, returning silence to the room. Only the voice of the soldier in front of you fills it with short answers to your questions about the gear laid out on the table. 

“Isn't the captain like your supervisor?” you hear the nameless scout whispering to Levi again. 

“Keen observation.”

“Is she cool?” 

“Cool?”

“I don't know. The captain gives off a kind of vibe that–”

You step into their line of sight, casting stern eyes on the nameless scout. “Thank you, soldier.” You're louder this time. The added spice to your reproach makes him flinch. 

Hange needs to tighten the leash around their soldiers. They're a terrible influence on Levi. 

You shake your head, then turn back to the clipboard in your hands to continue your job.

The following minutes are uneventful. You docket the second and third row while the female officer finishes Levi's line. There aren’t any inconveniences on your end. Every scout has their own gear well taken care of and functional. And from what little you heard, it looks like things are in order for the back rows as well.

You retreat to the desk at the front of the room with the female officer and quickly compare numbers. They match. All of the equipment has made it back in one piece and is ready to be used on tomorrow's expedition. 

“Excellent.” You face the multitude of scouts that have yet to break their pristine stance. “Alright, soldiers. We're all good here. Everything's in order. Enjoy your remaining hours inside the walls and be ready to depart tomorrow before sunrise.”

The crowd answers with a hearty salute, “Ma'am!” reverberating against the walls. 

You wave them off. “Store your gear and you're all good to go. Dismissed.” 

They don't need to be told twice. The scouts are eager to get it done, and a multitude of footsteps thump the floor on their way to the storage room. Despite the visible eagerness, they abide by discipline and work in perfect succession to get the equipment stored away. 

A voice now familiar to you contrasts with the blended murmurs in the background. “You're staying? What about chow time?” 

The reply comes monotone and silky smooth. “Captain's orders.”

You haven't said anything of the sort. Without glancing away from your work, you let a smile quirk your lips up. 

“Oh, alright,” says the nameless scout. “Can’t be helped. Look around for our table if you're dismissed early.”

With the steady growth of his presence comes your eventual acknowledgment. Levi walks up to you with folded arms over his chest, darting his gaze across the room like the walls were more interesting than the scout he's approaching. 

You leave the clipboard on the desk. “I wonder what it is I wish to talk to you about.”

Levi finally casts his attention on you, stoic eyes narrow and tired as he stops on the side of the desk across from you. “I needed him off my back. He's not letting me breathe.”

“I take it you apologized?” 

“I tried to, but he talked over me and went off yapping in an entirely different direction.” 

You chuckle. “So he doesn't get easily offended. Sounds like the perfect match for you.” You flick your gaze to the female officer as she approaches to announce her departure. You nod, dismissing her.  She waits for the last group of scouts before closing the door behind her, leaving you and Levi as the only remaining people. 

His silver eyes might burn into your head if he tries to stare at you with more intent. You see in him the sudden urge to speak. “Is there something you'd like to say to me?” you ask.

He thinks about it for a moment. “No.” 

You don't know what could have spurred his sudden approach. Maybe he wanted an escape from the nameless scout. Maybe it was an excuse to come talk to you. Levi's stance bleeds some rigidness, and his fists are clenched under his folded arms. 

“It's fine to feel anxious before an expedition,” you say. 

“I'm not anxious. It's just–” He exhales a quick breath. “People will die.”

“Not if Erwin can help it, and he will. Tomorrow or eventually. But he will figure it out.”

“An entire squadron got wiped out on the last expedition.” His response is crude and snappy, though the pain he glares into the floor doesn’t fuel your desire to chastise him for it. 

There's nothing you can say besides a quiet, “I know.” It would be cruel to tell him it could have been avoided with his cooperation, because it's pointless to wonder about fates no one can change. Erwin's first attempt at the formation was developed without Levi's superhuman prowess in mind, and it failed to bring home an entire squadron. 

Still, it accomplished what generations of commanders couldn't. It's a step in the right direction. You can almost smell it. 

Levi's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “You have a lot of faith in Erwin.”

“I do.” It's only obvious. There's no way you would have agreed to expose yourself to an underground criminal without trusting Erwin's judgment. 

“Hey.”

You blink. 

“Don't…” He stops himself. “No, it's nothing.”

One of the few things you have learned about Levi is that he expresses the most through his eyes. It's what draws your attention to them so much. They're the only part of him that defies his control. 

You can't figure out what he is thinking other than knowing it's making him restless. You can only surmise based on what you know about the last expedition and how it went for him. 

“Do you think you can trust me out there?” you ask.

“I don't know. Maybe.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I want to.”

You nod. It's more than what you were expecting to hear considering he's been vocal about how unsure he is to trust people beneath his abilities. He's willing, and that's something you can work with. Your skills cannot compare to his, but you take pride in what your team has accomplished under your guidance. 

“I'll earn your trust,” you say. 

“It's not about your leadership.” 

“I see…” In that case, you don't know what he means. “What is it then?” 

“That you'll…” His tongue clicks, cutting his answer short. Levi glares at you with frustration, as if he's silently accusing you of witchcraft for almost pulling the answer out of him. “Nothing.”  

“Good grief.” You roll your eyes, smiling. Evidently, Levi doesn't talk about his feelings enough. “You'll be fine, Levi.”

“I know.” Anyone else would be grateful about having the odds in their favor, yet Levi grumbles this fact like he's been condemned for life. 

“We'll all be fine,” you correct. 

He huffs. “Bold insinuation.”

“I can damn well speak for my section in that regard. It's not your job to worry about the squad. Leave that burden to me. All you have to do is follow orders.” 

Something must really be bothering him, and whatever that is appears to be too personal for him to outright say it. You wouldn't be surprised if it was related to the death of his friends. 

The situation can be different. For starters, he isn't targeting Erwin. You have made it a point to emphasize teamwork. He wants to trust you. These changes can go a long way in keeping the outcomes positive for you and your squad. 

“How about a review of what we have discussed?” You walk around to join his side of the desk. Levi watches your movements with soft wariness. “Just to make sure it got through your thick skull. Remind me, soldier, of what our station is.” 

“Is this really necessary–?” 

“I'm not asking again.” The added edge to your words could cut. You stop before him, leaving little to no space to fit a person between you. 

He tuts. “Primary defense. Center front.” 

“Right, and what's our duty?” 

You trace your fingers across his cheek and prevent his parted lips from formulating a response. He gains that distinctive glint in his eyes that betrays his snappy remarks whenever something is implied. Not once have you seen Levi opposed to any of your advances. He's always ready to take anything you feel like giving.

“Come on, pretty one.” Your voice turns mellow and sweet. The air between you fills with a subtle change. “You know the answer to this one.”

“What… was the question?” His skin comes alive under your fingertips, reacting to the sound of your chuckle. 

“Your duty, Levi.”

“Safeguarding the cart convoy below us.”

Your touch leaves his cheek and travels down, stopping on his sturdy chest. Though Levi's breaths stay even, they have sped up a little. You catch the tender sound of a particularly long inhale as it seeps into him. 

“We'll be encountering a decent number of titans in our position,” you say. “Are you going to charge ahead on your own?” 

A fog scatters over his eyes, ridding them of their innate, sharp look. “I'm sticking to my team.” 

Your mouth falls on his ear, and you keep your palm spread on his chest. “Why? Is it that I don’t trust you?” 

“No, but teamwork and order are the base of the formation. I protect the wagons and my peers above all else.” It's like he's speaking on autopilot, repeating everything you taught him with no babbling in between. 

Pretty boy is learning. You feel compelled to reward him for his flawless cooperation. 

Your mouth slides from his ear to the sharp cut of his jaw. “You lock on that goal like it's your lifeline, you hear me?” 

“Yes, but–” he swallows, throat popping, then musters out, “The door.” 

Oh, he's right. Anyone could barge in without notice. You might have to put an end to this altogether. It's your fault – you know – for starting something in the worst place possible, but locking the door would not stop anyone from knocking and suspecting. 

You lean back. He has that pinched look on his face that silently begs. You can't tell if he's even aware whenever he does it. A feeling in your gut always responds to it. 

No. You won't leave him hanging. You physically can't. Even a quick one will do. 

“Fine.” You leave to lock the door. 

By the desk, Levi awaits your return in complete silence. 

“I'm not done with my lecture yet.” You walk back to him, filling your fist with the fabric of his cravat. You pull him in, and the edge of his jaw falls on your mouth. His skin has already heated up. “Under whose orders are you operating?” 

“Yours.” His response comes out shallow, not broken but beginning to crack. Levi takes it upon himself to cross the thread of distance left between your bodies. He makes contact with your pelvis and hitches a weak breath. One hand spreads open on the small of your back, showing you only tenderness through his touch, while the other steals support from the desk behind you. 

You bask in the warmth he offers, letting it affect your body in every positive sense. “And what if I'm called away?” 

“The squad leader of my section delegates.”

You're both talking so quietly, as if sharing secrets to each other. Anyone standing over a few feet away wouldn't be able to catch a word. 

Your lips keep ghosting on his jaw, sliding back and forth as they move to form words against his skin. “You treat your squad leader with the same respect, you understand? You obey.” 

“Yes.” 

“Swear it to me.”

“I swear.” Levi devotes himself to you with his answer. He wouldn't dream of anything else. 

You hook onto a specific point on his jaw and suck the skin. Caught off guard, Levi buckets forward, knocking you into the desk with his arms gripping the edge on either side of your frame. He pops off your lips, but you make sure to latch on to him again. 

“Captain,” comes laden with heavy strain. “I mark too easily.” 

You release him, finding wanton eyes in your withdrawal. Yours shine with mischievous intent. “Oh?” 

He lets you push his cravat aside and watches as you separate the first two top buttons. A strange sense of giddiness overrides you when those marks come into view; small, rosy and fading, reflecting the tender actions you took upon his skin the last time. You barely even sucked. He truly has sensitive skin. 

The chuckle you exhale is but a speck of the amusement that would have been better conveyed with laughter. “My, my. Don't they look gorgeous on you?” They trace across his collarbone and over his chest, marking the exact path you created with your mouth. It's almost as if Levi's body were intent on opposing every crumb of strength his natural talents show. 

Out of childish fun, you pick the less visible mark, one located on a protruded section of his collarbone, to reinstate it. Levi doesn't express any opposition since it's something he can easily hide. If anything, the shaky exhale he feeds to the air physicalizes how much he likes it. 

He's fully hard against your crotch. You slither a hand between you and grip him over his clothes. 

Levi sucks in a breath. “Captain,” he moans. 

“As we were,” you say, setting up a pace on his crotch as you continue to mark his collarbone. “Remind me whose orders can override my own.” 

He stutters incoherences among quiet curses, losing himself to what your touch provides. You would have expected him to eventually grow accustomed to the feeling, enough that you would need improved creative means to affect him, yet Levi always drowns in it like it's his first time all over again; always sensitive, always so needy for you, willing to bend to your will. 

Your hand doesn't stutter. You don't plan on making it long for him. “Come on, pretty one. Who else do you listen to?” 

He struggles to just talk. “Erwin. S-section Commander, I mean. All of the section commanders and the commander.” 

You lean back to connect gazes with him. The layer over his eyes is thick with lust. They seem to look through you, spellbound. 

His length bulges into the tight space his briefs allow, and it is squeezed to the side of his pelvis. You massage what you can fit in your fist, applying the pressure you know he loves to reward his behavior.

“You work under these principles even after you get transferred to Section Commander Hange. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes,” shoots out with a quick breath. His lids peel wide open, still looking past you, half of him lost to the intoxicating feeling of your hand. “I–fuck, yes. I'll be good, I swear.” He screws his eyes shut and lets his head fall on your shoulder. His pelvis buckets in, burying your back into the edge of the desk. 

Your pace speeds up, and when you make it to the tip, a strangled croak grazes the walls of his throat. Your legs shake in response. He's always coming up with the most stunning of sounds. 

You press your thumb on his slit. “I can trust you.” 

He snaps his head in a hurried nod. His hand rises from the desk to pull you in from the waist. With so little space to work with, you have to focus on the movement of your fingers rather than your palm. 

“You can trust me. Captain, you can trust me, I swear."

You almost lose your cool when he starts grinding into you. Your head feels light, but you keep going. The heat of his crotch seeps through the layers of fabric, and you're already feeling the drops of precum spilling from his tip. 

Your hand lavishes him while his voice worships you. So overwhelming is your touch to him that he's shaking his head over your shoulder, shooting profanities through his teeth as he faces overwhelming bliss. 

You smile. “Good fucking boy.”

He spills his release into his boxer briefs and squirms. 

-

The sun is a few minutes shy of disappearing behind the landscapes when you finally return to the abandoned ruins the Scouting Legion will call headquarters for the duration of the expedition.

Reconnaissance was the same as any other time. Slow, arduous and deadly. There's no end to this travesty. For every titan someone kills, more come in from god knows where to replace the fallen. 

“Eyes forward, Captain.”

You turn your head to face Section Commander Mike. Even with the two of you seated on your respective horses, his height and physical build makes him tower over you by at least a whole head. 

His nose twitches as he sniffs the air. Sniffs you. It will never cease to surprise you. Without moving his face from the front, a hazel eye flicks to the corner of his sight in search of you. “Do not lose heart, Captain. It's only the first day.” 

You fist the reins, looking down at the ground that passes by your vision. The thick foliage scatters as you approach the ruins, revealing coarse terrain underneath. Silence surrounds the scouts. The solemn air gets filled by the knock of multiple hooves on the ground. 

It wasn't the worst outcome that could have happened, such being the death of the entire squadron. There are a few wounded, but no one has perished. Considering it's an expedition outside the walls, one has to appreciate the scraps of positivity available, even when they come at the cost of any substantial progress. 

You wonder if it would have been any different with Levi around. That man is truly a marvel. You saw bits of action on his first expedition, and many voices corroborated his superhuman talents, but witnessing him from up close was a completely different experience. 

Levi flew like he had been born with wings, like the gear is an extension of himself. He aimed with the precision of a trained sniper and landed blows so raw they would make full-scale titans shudder to their knees. 

The man is a threat to both man and monster, yet every move he made came only at your command. He lent his power to your judgment. You wonder if by now he has learned to trust you without hesitancy. 

The scouts safeguarding the entrance to the ruins appear less tense than those you left behind in the afternoon. Titan activity drops considerably after sunset. Soldiers are encouraged to keep a sharp eye, but nightfall tends to be safe. 

Most of the place remains exposed to the rising moon. Only certain constructions have some form of platform that functions as a ceiling, though nothing of what is available comes close to having four walls and a doorway. Officers and squad members alike will have to settle outdoors inside tents. 

The Survey Corps base buzzles with life as scouts undertake activities that have them rushing in different directions across the area. Mike dismisses his team so they can tend to the wounded, then heads over to the most decent standing structure available, which is where Erwin and Keith reside. You follow behind him. 

Hange broods a little further away. They keep their arms crossed over their chest and pace around with no regard for Moblit's attempt at pulling the scientist out of their busy head. 

A slight pang of dread settles in your stomach. If there’s any bad news, you hope none of it involves your lonesome soldier, though you find some reassurance in knowing it tends to be more hectic around base when something has gone off course. Keith and Erwin keep their composure intact as they delegate instructions in unison. 

You make it to Erwin alongside Mike and waste no time in asking, “What's the assessment in regards to the Fourth Squad?” Your laid-back attempt of an approach borders on restrained agitation.

The blond sends a scout away with new orders before he turns to you. His expression is as impassive as ever. “While the results were overall positive, it didn't run as smoothly as it did in practice. I'd rather encourage Hange to continue conducting pilot studies before we decide to bring a titan home.”

“Casualties?” In the back of your mind, you scold yourself for dancing around the subject. How's Levi? you should have asked. As his supervisor, it's only natural you would worry about this. 

“Only one scout,” he answers, and though it's clear by the brevity of his response that it wasn't a soldier of Levi's importance, you feel saddened by the knowledge that someone perished over a test run. 

Hange must be feeling the burden. Despite what most would think, they care about their soldiers and grieve for every single one that dies under their leadership. 

Erwin partakes in a brief exchange with a scout before he sends them off. He takes a step towards the duties awaiting him elsewhere, but stops himself to speak over his shoulder. “Levi was asking for you a while back. He seemed a little restless.” It's his silent permission for you to go to him. 

You nod. “Understood.” Mike commanded today's mission, anyway. He will relay the necessary details to Keith and Erwin. 

Incertitude plagues your thoughts. Levi should be fine. His skills guarantee that he's, for the most part, exempt from injuries. Major ones, at least. Erwin says he was looking for you, and that he was restless. 

An instinct you didn't know was there awakens in you. Of wanting to protect. To ensure he's feeling alright. For all the pretenses and talk he gives, Levi was uncharacteristically tense the remaining hours before departure. It's a given he can defend his body, but his mind is another thing altogether. No one should have to do that alone. 

You strain your eyes in search of familiar black bangs and a silver gaze amidst the sea of scouts moving about. The scene isn't frantic, but it's busy. Keith is setting everything up to be ready before tomorrow's sunrise. It always offers a fresh start ahead of the titans that have yet to recover their mobility. 

Away from the movement and the noise, sitting on a chunk of fallen debris and with his whole attention locked south from camp, your lonely scout waits impatiently for his Captain. Or at least that’s what you guess he’s doing considering he went around asking for you. There were titans that needed to be taken care of north from camp, so your arrival came an hour later and from a different direction. 

Levi fidgets with a single hand grip, twisting it in his hold as he pierces his stare ahead. He doesn't need to do more than that small movement to prove he feels some level of unease. The same arm rests over a bent knee while the other stays planted behind him to keep his weight straight. His free leg dangles off the surface and swings back and forth with short and quick movements. 

“Levi.”

He snaps his head to answer your call, and his body follows by hopping off the structure. He's fast approaching, glittering eyes trained on you as he stores away the hand grip. “You're here,” he says, masking his relief poorly. “I didn't see you arrive.” 

“Titans. We came back from the other end of camp. I'm fine, Levi,” you feel compelled to reassure. 

With a quick scan, you check for injuries. There isn't a lot of detail you can catch under the cover of nighttime, but you're sure you would have noticed any major wounds if he had any. Levi looks fine. You wonder if he feels that way too.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. 

He pauses, as if suddenly realizing he wasn't being his normal, aloof self. Tides of disturbance hide away into his eyes, shielding his face behind a frown. “Why?” 

“You look tense.” An instinct wants you to step forward, but you force your feet to stay in place. 

“It's nothing,” he grumbles. 

Your arm breaks from your mental restraint and shoots out to catch Levi's bicep in a tight hold that makes him spring his attention back to you. “Stop saying that.” Your command is unlike what a leader would say to their underling. You show the concern of a person who cares beyond that. 

Levi takes it in with his eyes –that new layer that you have peeled off of your expression. There's silent gratitude in those silvers, which glimmer against the light of the moon. His shoulders drop with the quiet sigh he lets out. 

“He died.”

There was only one casualty, but because of the way Levi has revealed it, you're inclined to think about the nameless scout. The silent question in your gaze is answered with a nod. 

You expel a breath through your nose, arm falling back to your side. “I see.”

“I figured he would. No one who associates with me…” He shuts his mouth, unable to finish the claim that almost escapes him. You wonder if he realizes how insane of a thought it is or if he's simply holding back in fear of sealing his fate with the sound of those words. 

“Finish it,” you say even so, because now you realize it's the 'nothing' he has been lying to you about. 

Levi doesn't have the energy to fight it. “No one who associates with me lives for long. Maybe I'm cursed or–I don't know.” His brows knit into a glare he fires at the ground, tongue clicking behind his teeth. “What am I even saying?” 

“It's alright.” You do your best to be the most gentle you can be. “You're not cursed, Levi. Death comes with the job. It's the titans.”

“No, because even before that, my mother–” He shakes his head with a strong and hurried movement, forcing himself to a stop. “No, forget it. We're not going there right now.”

His mother. Levi knows his mother. Or knew. 

Despite your concerns, it isn't your place to pry. 

You nod. “Okay.”

“I'm being stupid, I know.”

Your reply is immediate and certain. “No. No, Levi. It's–your thoughts are valid, you hear me? You don't have to undermine them. It's okay, Levi.” 

He studies your face. Perhaps for a hint of deceit or mockery, but there is none. You wouldn't dream of doing anything to make him retreat into his shell. Not after he went through the trouble of baring himself. Your mouth rises into a smile that catches his attention for only a short moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. 

“If you say so,” he murmurs, unsure of how to deal with his feelings. 

“I do say so.” 

Though a part of you wants to reach out and touch him, the moment is vulnerable enough as it is and you don't want to push it over the line. You've built a new bubble for yourselves, one that basks in a different type of intimacy shared only through glances. It exposes a lot, but you don't mind, and it looks like Levi doesn’t either. 

“Hey,” he calls, even if there isn't a thing or soul around you would pay attention to. 

You hum to incite his continuation. 

He just doubts for a quick second. “You're not allowed to die.”

Chapter Text

“Smells like sweat in here. I can’t stand it.”

You glance over your shoulder to meet the eyes of your grumpy companion. “You’ve never been to a market before?”

“First time mingling with the people.” Levi flinches and glares to his side, missing whoever it was that grazed his shoulder. “Repulsive.” 

You roll your eyes and look back to the front. “Good grief. Had I known you’d be complaining this much, I would have left you behind at headquarters.” 

“I didn’t ask to get dragged here.” 

“I didn’t drag you here. I gave you the choice and you came of your own free will.”

Despite the front you’re putting, it’s reassuring to see that he’s starting to sound like himself again. Gloominess isn’t a good look on Levi. He had been acting a little off since the incident with Hange’s team, no doubt related to the brief discussion you shared about his fears. 

He was quieter than usual upon returning to the walls. His resistance to conversation isn’t recent news, but you know that Levi wouldn’t shy away from speaking his mind at every opportune moment, especially when it comes to complaining. Much like he’s doing now. 

“You coerced me,” he says. 

“I did no such thing. It was an invitation. You said no and I replied alright.”

“You also said see ya.”

You huff a quiet breath through your nose, mixing amusement with confusion. “So?”

“The way you said it felt like you were trying to coerce me into coming here.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, both elated and relieved to know that he’s alright after all. “Whatever you say, Levi.”

You have to give it to him, though. The market is chock-full of people, more than you would have expected to deal with so late into the afternoon. It was in your best interest to not only get your errands done, but take advantage of the circumstances and go on a stroll. So much for those plans.

You like visiting the district in civilian clothes, because donning the Wings of Freedom is a sure-fire way of getting scrutinized by the townsfolk. The few that don’t express contempt are guaranteed to show pity, seeing titan fodder whenever they spot one of you in the streets. Brief are the times a scout is regarded as a proper soldier. 

You check behind you to make sure Levi is following. He threw a simple outfit together in the brief minutes you gave him to get ready, and you can’t help but notice that he wears dark colors like they were made to fit him well. He keeps his arms tucked to his sides, staying sharp for incoming shoulders. His scowl deepens when an attempt fails and someone brushes his arm. 

The noise of the crowd fuses with his distaste. “I hate being touched.”

“What? You? I would have never in a million years so much as dared to even fathom the possibility–”

“By strangers,” he grumbles, averting his gaze. “Just buy your stuff so we can get out of here.” 

You look around, trying to see past the multitude of heads blocking the stands on the sides of the road. It’s even harder to understand what anyone is saying when there are so many voices speaking over each other. 

“I’m just here to buy some toiletries,” you try to speak over the noise so your companion hears you. “Maybe you can help me find–” Pain strikes you, interrupting your speech by making you groan. You turn around to glare at the seller for wheeling his fruit cart into you. “Watch it.” 

Nevermind the man’s indifference. You are quick to notice that Levi is gone, swallowed up by the masses. Shoulders push harder against you in an attempt to remove you from the way, but you remain in place, searching for your companion.

“Levi?” you whisper, though it’s unlikely he’d catch a sound so quiet. Slight panic bubbles up in your chest. You know he has changed for the better since he was enlisted, but leaving him to his own devices isn’t an option you feel comfortable about just yet. 

You step around in circles, whipping your head every which way. Maybe he went to the side of the street for a breather? If he did, he should have at least warned you. 

None of the passing townsfolk have the specific traits you’re looking for. Levi wasn’t born with bright eyes or blond hair, but he stands out among the crowd. It shouldn’t be hard to spot him if he’s still around. You know for a fact his surroundings blur behind his much stronger presence whenever your gaze finds him.

“You stay out of this, little man. Don’t make me call the Military Police.”

You pick up the spite in those words and your senses snap into a state of alarm, feet scurrying in the direction of that voice against the obstacles in your path. The complaints of the crowd are null to your ears. You train your attention ahead and forge your way to one of the stands, where you find the owner of all this ruckus swinging his rolling pin to pair it up with his babbling, as if he weren't threatening enough with his height and broad frame. 

Loaves are scattered at his feet, ruined by dirt and the few people that don’t mind their step. The wooden container situated on the right side of the stand looks considerably emptier next to the one that still holds a wobbly pyramid of bread together. 

Levi stands his ground like there isn't a force that could move him, and although the man on the receiving end of his disdain towers over him by a whole head, you know better than to think he'd have the upper hand against Levi. You fear for the baker, that and the thin ice your partner walks on. 

He's unpredictable to a fault. You don't want to ask what happened. 

The baker continues to snap his rolling pin at Levi as he talks, invading the border of his personal space without daring to touch him. You know it would only take the flick of a finger to provoke Levi. This baker doesn’t seem like the type to be patient either. 

“Hey!” His call roams through the masses. “Someone call the Military Police!” 

Damn it, Levi, you scold in your head, wasting no time to run towards the scene. It isn’t like Levi to be so careless he would knock a tower of bread over. You were in the middle of the street. He had no reason to alter his course and be near any of the food stands. 

The MPs would take any opportunity to shove him inside a cell. This small incident could potentially sully the Scouting Legion's reputation and by extension, yours. All because you thought he’d be able to handle the ruckus of daily life in the district like a normal person, but you jumped the gun too soon. 

You get in between them, blocking the sight of Levi from the eyes of the baker. “Don’t mind my companion, sir. He’s actually really shy and–” 

“Fat scum.” Levi’s voice is dark and laden with menace. You want to groan. 

The baker searches for Levi’s eyes and fails to intimidate any part of him. It might look like you’re acting as your partner’s shield, but both you and Levi know you’re actually protecting the baker from him. 

“You should tighten the leash around your husband, ma’am. He’s causing a lot of unnecessary trouble.” 

“I understand–”

“You fucking disgust me,” Levi snaps.

You fire an exasperated glare that goes ignored. 

“And it’s not just your stench,” he finishes. 

The baker coils into his shoulders, flushing from neck to ears. “Not so shy anymore, are you? Let's see if you remain smug by the time the MPs get here.”

You try to calm him with the gentle motion of your hands. “I’m sure we can settle this in another way–” 

“Call the whole building in Sina for all I care.”

Your head snaps back, eyes wide beneath a frown. “Levi, stop,” you hiss, intending it as an order. 

You finally catch his attention, though that doesn’t put out the anger burning in his eyes. He sacrifices only a shred of it so you don't receive the full blow. “The kid would have died if I hadn't stepped in.” His voice comes out far less poisonous when it addresses you. 

You blink, prolonging the silent exchange between you in case you heard wrong. “What?”

Then you spot them—two kids admiring their savior from a safe place behind the wall of an alleyway. Days of filth cake their faces, rendering any specific features indiscernible. Their clothes hang over them like sacks, and there’s very little muscle between the skin and bone. They’re orphans, no doubt. 

“They were trying to steal from me.” The baker expresses this statement like it's a reasonable justification, pulling your gaze back to him. “Damn brats will never distinguish right from wrong without a good beating. If their mother isn’t around to do it, I ought to go through that trouble myself.” 

Levi clicks his tongue. “A blow to the head with that thing would have killed them.”

Any crumb of sympathy you had for the man’s predicament wanes. Your expression falls into a serious look that tries to remain steady. “They’re kids.” You deliver these words the same way he did—like it's only reasonable. 

The baker doesn’t agree. Not in the least. “You’re encouraging them. Look at the mess they made! They spoiled half a day's worth of earnings.”  

“It was an accident.”

“That they were born is the real accident here.” 

You reach back with your hand to stop Levi in his tracks, and he responds by gripping your extended arm on an impulse, smacking your skin with the momentum that his impatience brings, but he feels the quiet look you give him and stays put, even keeping his touch where it landed.  

You understand. Of course you do. The belief that it can't be the children's fault, that they didn't choose this. The world dealt them a bad hand and they have to subsist by any means necessary. Subsist like he did. 

You know this feeling too. The kind that made you helpless once. Of not getting a say in anything. It's the reason why you safeguard your worth, because it's the one thing you still have control over. 

The baker doesn’t read between the lines. He angles his rolling pin in your direction, and you feel Levi twitch, ready to be the wolf that will defend his master upon command. 

“If you wanna take responsibility for those kids, fine by me,” the baker says, “but someone’s gotta pay up, either with a beating or in cash.” He reaches forward with his tool, poking you in the stomach with an intent that comes off as demeaning.

Levi's reaction is immediate. He smacks it off before the man can try anything else. The loud slap of skin against skin exposes the great force in his attack. 

He retracts, holding his assaulted hand while his tool rolls away into the street. “You!”

“Try poking her with your filth again and you'll lose the hand holding it.” The warning comes low and rough, almost growled, and not only does the baker feel it crawl on his skin, but you do as well. 

The ordeal has attracted a few pairs of eyes. It won't be long before the Military Police arrives to escalate the situation.

You sigh, pushing the adrenaline out of your system. “Alright, that’s enough.” The defeat dragging your words announces your surrender. You pull a small sack of earnings from your satchel and toss it to the baker, not wasting the chance to add some unnecessary force to the action. 

“The money inside should cover it,” you say. “Let the kids take what’s on the floor.” 

Although there’s an intent from the baker to persist with his opinion, he knows better than to risk his victory. “Fine,” he grumbles, opening the pouch to verify the amount. 

The two children are eager to accept their gifts once you call them in. You watch over them like a guard while Levi protects your small bubble of space with the work of his murderous glare directed at the onlookers. 

Once everything has been collected into a sack, the older kid looks over at the two of you with silent gratitude, then ushers his sibling back into the empty alleyway, escaping the scrutiny of so many eyes.

You’re tired of the unwanted glances too. “Let's go, Levi.”

The crowd disperses as you stray from the market. There's no point in doing errands without the means to pay for anything. It's far from ideal, but your disappointment is short-lived since this incident doesn't represent a hole in your savings. Food, basic necessities and a roof come with the job, so you don't tend to spend more than on the occasional indulgence. 

That being said, it'd be a crime to turn your back on the fiery colors that have started to bleed across the sky. The sunset can be appreciated better here than at headquarters. 

“I'll pay you back.”

You turn around, and Levi halts his step after you, scowling in his own version of a troubled expression. By not saying anything else, he leaves you with the arduous job of figuring him out.  

“It’s alright, Levi.” 

“No, I’ll pay you back.” 

You wave him off, testing a nonchalant approach to see if it helps. “Nah. The way you reacted wasn't the most ideal, but I supported your intentions.”

“It was my mess.”

“And I’m your captain. Your mess is my mess and backwards. We’ve been sharing a giant mess from the start anyway.” 

“But–”

“Besides,” you continue, crossing your arms. The muscles on your face relax, but you stare straight into his steel gaze. “Just like you, I saw myself in those children.” 

“I didn’t–” 

The instinct to deny it withers when your response sinks in. Without jumping to conclusions, he seals his mouth and waits. 

“I was an orphan too, Levi. My time on the streets was short, but orphanages aren't what they paint themselves to be. If you’re not adopted past a certain age, they send you off to the military.” You quirk a smile from one side, trying to keep the mood light. “And speaking of which, I just remembered I also joined the military kicking and screaming. Maybe we’re not so different after all. I wasn’t as big of a pain in the ass as you, though.” 

You give Levi a generous amount of time in case he wants to say something back. Curiosity shines in his eyes, but he won't bring himself to satisfy it. 

You choose to continue, surprised by your own willingness to address that particular time in your life. It isn't a desire that comes to you often. “It’s unfair, isn't it? We're all our own person, yet for some reason the stakes are always measured by others. Just look at us—look at the damn walls.” You tip your gaze towards the sky, basking in this fake idea of liberty the walls sell to their people. 

Your inspiration for joining the scouts wasn't the kind of idea that would inspire masses into battle, but over time, Erwin's drive managed to rub off on you.

It doesn't stray far from what you want for yourself, the main difference being the scale of that desire. You want the right to choose, whereas he wants the right to freedom, and he wants it for everyone in the walls. 

“Don't think about it. You can't.” The sound of Levi's words save you from drowning inside your head. “We fought. We survived. Others didn't and many more won't, but we still keep going. We've come this far and there's no point in stopping now.”

You smile. “That's one way of putting it.”

Someone calls you by your name, and your composure dwindles when that voice clicks. The image of his light eyes invades your mind before you can even think about turning to face him. 

Ludwig walks at a snail’s pace, grip loose around his belt. The assured nature of his approach is a privilege sustained only by the green mare embroidered on his jacket.  

Levi watches, a quiet but cautious aura surrounding him as he takes a spot beside you. He's prepared to repel the threat if summoned. All you need to do is say the word. 

The rifle strapped around Ludwig clicks behind him with his movements, a reminder of his authority and that sticking the muzzle in Levi's direction wouldn't take him more than a few seconds. 

You put up a barrier with the distant sound of your voice. “Didn't think I'd ever find you stationed in Wall Rose, Ludwig.”

“Duty moves from wall to wall. Now what's this about a young couple that stirred up ruckus in the market? You wouldn’t happen to know anything, I imagine.” 

You roll your eyes. “Come on, Ludwig.”

“The townsfolk were disturbed.”

“We didn’t do anything.”

He breaks away from your gaze to look at Levi, challenging his intimidating stance with a solid attempt of his own. “It’s your word against this one’s extensive list of criminal deeds, vandalism and theft in the underground market among other things.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you say. “He was with me.”

He keeps his face steered in Levi's direction while studying you from the corner of his eye. His lips tilt up into an eerie smirk. “Indeed. His actions must be spreading like a disease, though I could turn a blind eye to you, my dear, if–”

“No need, because there’s nothing to report. Get off our backs already.” 

“You seem to forget he has killed people before. I don’t understand why you and the scouts are so intent to protect him.”  

You could growl in frustration. The attack was directed at Levi, but you might as well be feeling like he's rubbing salt on your wounds. Ludwig has no business meddling with the affairs of the Scouting Legion. 

“If you have a problem with that, take it up to the authorities, but right now, he’s one of us. You either accept it or you don’t. I don’t give a damn about your feelings on the situation.” 

“My, my, Levi.” His sluggish set of blue eyes turn to Levi. The rest of his casual energy pours into his posture as he crosses his arms. “You sure know how to whore your way around.”

Your fingers twitch. You're surprised by your inability to stay composed. Usually, Levi is the one reacting on impulse, but you can’t help it. You’re already at your limit. 

Your palm would have tried to smack him on the cheek if a third person hadn't come around to accidentally diffuse the situation. 

“Ludwig, the fuck are you doing?” A man in the same uniform approaches only enough to let his voice be heard. “Come on. The carriage is here. We're through with our shift.” 

You sigh, feeling as though you dodged a bullet. Ludwig isn’t one to turn down a night at the bar, especially not over a nuisance as senseless as this whole encounter. He'll be better off gone. 

Ludwig relents, sneaking a glance at the pair of you like he's looking at cockroaches before taking his leave. 

You wait until he’s out of sight to drop your guard. Your shoulders slump, and a long sigh pours from your mouth. “Damn, I need to sit.”

Ludwig is the perfect image of a spoiled Mitras boy; always so privileged, arrogant and gullible. He even has the complexions to back it up. Coupled with his confidence and way with words, any young girl would be swept off her feet. 

Now that you've grown, he reminds you of the conceited brats you pick apart fresh out of graduation. Life in the interior has failed to make a proper man out of him. He wouldn’t last a second past the walls. 

“Do you think he knows?” Levi asks. 

“Doubt it. He was just trying to tick us off.” You collapse on a bench by a fountain, then prop your elbows on your thighs to hold your face in your palms. “The fuck did I ever see in him?” you groan, rubbing your temples. He’s a damn rock in your shoe. 

“You were a thing?” Levi approaches, hiding curiosity behind a stoic exterior. 

“Yeah, I was too dumb and young.”

“He still looks bitter about it.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. As if he ever gave a damn. He just likes to push my buttons.” 

His silence says a lot. You have gotten better at reading him. 

“Ask me.”

Another moment pases before he relents. “What kind of relationship was it?” 

You rest your cheek on your palm, staring ahead. The stone on top of the fountain was molded to look like a fish. “I guess we were a couple. I’m not sure. Maybe I was the only one who thought that we were. I was too inexperienced back then, and I went with the flow on a lot of things.”   

“Was he like you?”

Your face twists into a disgusted look. “What does that even mean?”

He hurries to correct it, though not without the click of his tongue to complain about your ridiculous insinuation. “I mean like—as the one who guides. Taking charge, I don’t know.”

You chuckle. “You always have a funny way of describing things.”

“Give me a break.” 

“I started from zero with him, so yeah. He would always lead.” You snort. “But if he had been anything like me, I might stayed around for the fun. I mean, look at you.”

He steers his attention to the fountain, dismissing you with, “Yeah, yeah.”

Your jaw slacks, but you can’t hold down the grin ruining your act. “Well, I’ll be! Maybe I should take my services elsewhere.” 

He plays along, doing a better job than you at keeping an aloof front. “Be my guest.”

“You wouldn’t last a day without me.”

“I’ve lasted three.”

You laugh. Your chest feels really light. “We should push for four then.”

The corner of his lip twitches with amusement, but he doesn't add anything else. 

You try not to show too much. Delight doesn't come without its fair dose of vulnerability, and although you aren't entirely opposed to such a notion around Levi these days, there's always the thought in the back of your mind that warns it wouldn't befit the nature of your relationship. 

“Have you been with other people?” he asks, no longer resisting the urge to appease his curiosity. 

“One or two after Ludwig, though it was nothing serious. I stopped soon after. Relationships are hard to nurture and one night stands are risky for a lot of reasons. Ludwig was an ass and he exposed my private life, so I learned from that too.” You look at him. “Okay, now you.”

He blinks, already showing wariness. “What about me?”

“I told you about my past relationships.”

“You think I had time for that? You already know I’ve done nothing.”

He reels your full attention. You turn on the bench to properly face him. “Absolutely nothing? No dating? No kissing? Not even hugging?” 

“None of those things are common underground.” He tips his chin back to the front, exposing the sharp edge of his jaw to your eyes. “And as I said, I don’t touch strangers.”

“We were kind of strangers.”

“Yeah, don’t ask me what happened.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us.” 

Or maybe the reason is not so complicated after all. Levi is an attractive man, and he must think the same about you to some extent. His disobedience inspired your authority. He was curious and you had the knowledge. The recipe was too tempting to pass up.

He's an interesting partner. At the pace you've been going, you likely wouldn't have stuck around if it was anyone else, but with him it just works. He keeps you on the edge of your seat. The secrets behind his many layers are a big part of what makes it fun. 

You place your palms behind you and lean your weight on them. “Have you thought about kissing me before?” You regret it as soon as you're done asking. It's as if the question came out on its own. 

He snaps his head to look at you, silver eyes open and intent, seeing if they can figure you out before he ventures into saying anything. 

When that doesn't work, he gives in. “I figured it’d be too much.” 

You hum in agreement. “To be honest, I hadn't given the idea much thought.” 

You hadn’t, but now you are. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him. How he would express himself through it. If he’d learn as fast as he does with everything else. If it would truly expose too much.  

“Maybe we can try,” you suggest, doing your best to stay nonchalant. “Some other time, I mean. Let it happen on its own.”

It's impossible to ignore the way your heart pounds like you've run a marathon. You don't enjoy this new feeling. It's riddled with uncertainty, and it's something that is no longer in your control. 

Only the fountain water accompanies you during the silence. 

“Yeah, okay,” he finally says. “If it happens, it happens.”

He unclogged your airways with that answer. God. It's like he has you in a chokehold. Your hands are clammy from clenching around nothing. 

An escape. You need an escape. 

You read the first sign your eyes find and snap your fingers. “Oh, pastries!” comes almost like a squeak. You can't calm down, and every mishap only fuels the fire. 

There's no need to understand it, so you won't give it any thought. 

You take your excuse and roll with it, leaving him to figure you out based on the one word you gave for an explanation.

The short walk from the fountain to the stand of sweets is all the distance you need to gather yourself in privacy.  

The seller is much older than the one you confronted at the market. His eyes seem kind, and they glint with an eagerness to take your order. You ask for two pastries. The first one has white cream on top, given to you in paper wrapping. 

Levi arrives in time for you to welcome him with the offering, but he raises his hand to stop you. “I don't eat sweets.”

“Have you tried this?” You swat his hand off with playful intent and expose him again to the pastry. Your face is still warm and your heart restless, but that doesn't stop you from enjoying that he's around. 

Since he says nothing, you assume the answer is a begrudging no. 

“Try it,” you insist. 

He scowls without managing to make himself look displeased in any way. “I don't have any money with me.”

“Irrelevant if I'm gonna pay for it anyway.” You continue to tease him, nearly smearing the white cream on the tip of his nose. The look of alarm that passes by his face makes you shoot a quick laugh. “Stop being so picky and try a bite. One bite.”

Levi holds your wrist to pull your hand away from his face. “Then stop trying to smack me with it. Good grief.”

“It’s the least you can do to repay me for my help. You wouldn't be so inconsiderate, right?” 

The chuckle from the old man serves as a reminder that you're not alone in a bubble, but the thought is far too distant in your mind to deter you. Levi owns your full attention, and you're enthralled by this small moment. Even he appears to be caught up in your childish spur and has yet to notice your one spectator. 

“Oh, so that's how it is. You’re going to coerce me again.” He rolls his eyes and finally accepts the pastry, scrutinizing it from side to side like he's reviewing a scientific product.

“For the last time, I did not coerce you to come here.” 

While waiting for him to take the plunge, you are given enough time to realize that the orange hues of the sunset have poured over his face, sparking flecks in his eyes that look almost golden. 

Levi finally quits stalling and bites, then chews for about five seconds before he declares the thing a waste. 

But you're feeling particularly stubborn today. “Fine, I'll take that one and order a salty bun for you.”

“I don't want food.”

You ignore him, exchanging the second pastry for a bun of the old man's choosing. You return to Levi with the same insistence from before and shove the item into his personal space so he'll be forced to take it. “He said the filling's a killer. Try it.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want food’ do you not understand?” He grabs your wrist to pull it away from his face, surprising you when he accepts the bun in his other hand instead of rejecting you like his words promised. 

The bun looks tasty; round and golden brown under a waft of delicious aroma, yet Levi judges it like you were trying to feed him something dubious, like he had to look out for poison. 

You chuckle, trying to ignore the warm touch he keeps around your wrist. You can’t tell if he forgot about it or meant to leave it as it is. His hand holds you the same way he holds his cup of tea. His fingers are boney and light on your skin, groomed and taken care of like the rest of him. A stranger wouldn’t guess he expertly manipulates the same gear that has ruined the hands of multiple scouts. His palm feels slightly callused - naturally– but he doesn’t let it go beyond that. 

“It's not the worst thing I've tried.” His comment snaps your attention back to his face, which glows under fiery colors as the sun continues to descend behind the wall. He already tried the bun and you didn’t even notice. 

You hum, nearly thoughtless. “Of course you would say something like that.”

“You try it now.” He extends it in your direction, holding it between the two of you. 

Without thinking, you bite, then realize after the action has been done that perhaps taking it from his hand would have been the rational thing to do. 

He fails to hide his stunned expression from you, which you catch a second before he can revert it back to normal. 

Your taste buds welcome the variety of spices and vegetables from the filling. It's a good enough diversion to set your attention on. “Oh, that's actually really good.”

“You want it?”

You sigh, surrendering to his stubbornness. “We can take that home, I suppose. If you really don't want to even touch it.”

The sound of your disappointment works like a charm. 

“I’ll eat it,” he grumbles. 

Your eyes regain their spark. “Great. I’ll pay and then we can enjoy these on the way back.”  

You try to leave before he can second-guess his answer, but tugging your arm brings attention to the fact that Levi is still holding you by the wrist. For the looks of it, he’s only realizing this now. 

The seconds tick away as he sorts out his thoughts without exposing anything on his face, then he releases you, fingers lifting slowly, like he secretly doesn’t want to let go. 

It’s hard to think—you can’t think and it doesn't make sense. Fleeting touches in public spaces don't compare to most of the things you do for each other behind closed doors, but you're acting like they have twice the amount of weight. 

You mull these thoughts while you pay, hoping they can be blamed on the sudden change of routine. It's easier to relax around him when you aren't in your regular workspace or wearing your uniform. 

Done with the baker, you turn around and realize that Levi isn’t where you left him. 

The sight you encounter further up ahead makes you pause. 

He reeled a stray cat out of its hiding place with a few pieces of his bun. The wrapper was lent to keep a safe layer between the food and the dirty floor. Not many people would think that far ahead for an animal. Then again, it's on brand for Levi to worry about details like that. 

There's nothing else he can do for the cat, but he’s staying around to watch it eat regardless, visibly entertained with the simplicity of the moment. He squats down to get a closer look, and you’re almost sure his eyes glint when the cat meets his gaze. 

Your heart flutters, and you place a hand on your chest as if that would make a difference.

Chapter Text

The sudden knock on your door filters through your concentration. “Yes,” you breathe, flipping a report to the other side. “Come in.”

Erwin appears behind the door, drawing your eyes to his immaculate image. Despite the late hours, he looks the same as he did this morning, untouched by the amount of work he takes beside the commander. You haven't combed your hair once since leaving your quarters. 

He stations himself on the other side of your desk, making it clear by not taking a seat that his visit will be brief. “I will not interrupt your work for much longer. Just wanted to inform you that Levi is still in the building with his group, and if you intend on prolonging your hours here, then I would appreciate it if you waited for him before locking the front doors.”

You set your quill down. “Oh, okay. Is he doing alright?” 

His lips curve up from a single side. “Well, the building is still standing.”

“Very funny, Erwin.” You lean back on your chair, crossing a leg over the other. “I heard you also placed him with Mike to run an ODM gear practice this morning.”

“The legion could benefit from his skills. We've been following the same practices for years now. I'm sure there's a lot he can bring to the table with his knowledge.”

“That I don't doubt.”

“Then why are you worried?”

“Worried?” It’s only after you stop drumming your fingers on the desk that you understand where his conclusion comes from. 

You wish you didn’t have to doubt him. Erwin’s judgment is alway factual. If he has decided to trust him with his men, it’s only because he must have found several good reasons to take that leap. 

That being said, you’ve been around Levi far more than he has, and your opinion is that he isn’t ready to manage a team of his own, even when the task revolves solely around cleaning. Mike was present to keep an eye on him during training, so it’s far from the same thing. 

“It's just–” You sigh. “Aren't you pushing it a bit, Erwin?” 

“Do you doubt his pledge?” 

“No, but he's impulsive. You've seen him.”

“He won't grow wings unless we push him.” He takes a moment to look at you— study you with those blue eyes that never miss a detail. “You shouldn't worry, Captain. I don't intend for him to lead in the field any time soon. This was just a simple test to oversee his progress. Nothing more.” 

You sink as if the weight of his stare is pushing you into the seat. “Alright.”

“I have to admit I find it amusing that you've grown overprotective of him.”

That's when you know this man is on the hunt. 

You laugh, trying to mask your nervousness, though perhaps you might only be exposing it. “I also worry for the safety of the ones on the other end of his death glare, Section Commander.”

There isn't much else to discuss after that. Erwin leaves you to your thoughts, closing the door behind him on his way out. 

You hate that his intuition was spot on as usual. He kept the subtext buried between the words, but years of working directly under his command have given you the ability to read through the lines. 

Your hand starts scribbling again. 

You're worried because his intentions were clear from the start. He wants Levi to be the spear and shield of the legion. It won’t be long before the tales of his superhuman abilities reach the public’s ear. A man worth a hundred soldiers. Anyone is bound to have at least a little faith in the Survey Corps after that. 

Erwin is simply making sure he eventually gets to that stage, but you fear that he’ll be too hard on Levi—go too fast for him.

The next hour comes and goes in silence while you move your hand from one report to the next, trying to stay out of your head so you can skip the strain of overthinking. The paperwork that follows an expedition is inevitable for any officer in the Scouting Legion. There’s a lot of information that needs to be put on record, and you’re taking care of it before it accumulates with your daily work. 

Someone stops on the other side of your door, and the hurried way in which they bang makes you snap your head up. “Yes–?”

The newcomer takes the first sign of permission to invite themselves in. “Captain!” A female scout emerges behind the door, wearing utter distress to garner your attention. The white handkerchief around her neck reminds you of what Levi wears when he's cleaning. Maybe he imposed it. 

You already don't like this. 

“It's Levi, ma'am.” 

So she was assigned to him. It's all the words she needs to make you spring off your chair. The message is clear: you’re needed, and urgently. 

You leave your office without bothering to close the door on your way out. The female scout runs behind you from one hallway to the next, struggling to keep up with your pace. Her voice is several feet away when she tells you his location. 

The Scouting Legion’s library is situated on the first floor of the main building. You’re only a flight of stairs away from reaching your destination. 

You push past the doors and walk into a scene that will never stop being stressful no matter how common it’s becoming. Levi has the natural talent of provoking people. If not with words, then silence alone. 

The scout in front of him doesn’t appear to know any better, thinking he can challenge the danger in those silver eyes and come out of it unscathed. They stand at an arm’s length from each other, the space in between loaded like it were the equivalent of no man’s land right before a war.

The rest of the team stands witness to it all a little further to the side, some of them encouraging their friend to let up. Tension runs high in the room, and you wonder if a simple intervention will be enough to snuff the flames out. 

“You have but one month here,” the scout says like he's trying to shoot venom through his words. “I don't care how many titans you've killed. Two expeditions aren't nearly enough to give you a quarter of the experience any of these fine men and women have. Get off your high horse, Levi. I don't care what the higher ups say, I'll be damned before taking orders from you, and that applies both in and outside the walls.”

It's as you feared. The scouts aren't ready to trust Levi with their lives. Not only that, but because of the role Erwin wants him to play, he has been given leniency no other scout gets. It would take a blind person to miss the clear favoritism at play. You can’t blame them for questioning the merit in Levi’s achievements.  

His accusations fail to inflict even a scratch on Levi’s demeanor. He retains the stance he uses as armor to seize control over everything in his vicinity, the kind that leaves the one on the receiving end of his apathy feeling like a fool. So crafted is his defense that you can never tell if he's acting or actually staying indifferent to it all. 

“What's with all this nonsense you're spouting? The issue here is that you can't scrub a floor to save your life.” Although Levi speaks without a hair of emotion, it’s the meaning behind his words that does the most damage. “I can't sugarcoat a job that fails to meet basic criteria. If your tender pride feels threatened by my disapproval, that's on you for feeling that way.”

“You sure know how to talk big–”

You walk in. “Enough.”

“–for someone who's underground scum.” 

Your presence goes ignored. The veteran scout tries to grab Levi from the collar of his shirt, but gets his fist caught in the other’s clutch before a proper move can be made. He’s unable to pull his arm back, falling victim to the strength Levi starts adding like he is going to crush the bones in his hand. 

“Levi,” you call, but he doesn't acknowledge you're there. Neither of them do. 

“You're no leader,” the scout continues, refusing to surrender. “Everyone here knows what happened to those two while they were under your command. We don’t want that same fate.” 

Levi grits his teeth, and through them slithers, “Fuck you.” His walls drop, letting raw anger seep into his expression. 

“If your pride is threatened, that's on you for feeling that way.”

You're standing so close, but you can't find the impulse to ram in between them. The tension has been stretched like a bowstring, and you don’t want to be the one that makes it snap with a wrong move. 

Levi starts pushing the scout’s hand, slowly bending his wrist to the back until the joints are at the limit of their flexibility. One more shove is all it would take to snap the bones in half. 

The courage burning in the scout’s eyes wanes. “Wait–”

You bring your hand down on Levi’s arm, gripping it tight with your fingers. “I said enough.”  

His forehead is creased with the weight of his scowl, silver gaze affixed on the scout like he's trying to burn two holes into his soul. 

And he isn't letting him go. 

Panic settles on the scout's expression. The abnormal bend of his wrist is starting to take effect. He tries to pluck Levi's fingers off, but his clammy hand slips against the steady grip holding him captive. 

“Levi!” You move your other arm to hold his cravat in your fist. “I fucking swear… if you don't let go right now…” 

He releases the scout, shaking off both of your hands. If it wasn’t for this action, you would still think he had yet to notice you, because his eyes haven’t stopped targeting the one in front of him. 

The scout searches for safety in your gaze. “Captain, he's–” 

“Silence,” you snap, denying him your full attention. Levi owns it even if he won't return it. “I'll deal with this one myself, but you know well whose command you were meant to follow.”

“I understand, Captain, but he's…” His voice is thinner, sounding almost weak, as if it has retreated into the back of his throat. He holds his wrist, passing tender digits over the sore muscles. “He's an underground thug, ma'am. He may have led a syndicate down there, but it's not the same as guiding soldiers outside the walls.”

“Your concerns are valid,” you finally glance in his direction, showing only your contempt, “though still not good enough to warrant this kind of behavior. This was about cleaning, for fuck's sake. No one said anything about sending this same squad outside the walls.” 

He bows his head in defeat. “Apologies, Captain.”

You look past the scout, attention caught by one of the onlookers in the crowd. “You.”

The young man at the front snaps to attention. 

“The fuck do you have there?” 

Upon hearing the disapproving nature of your tone, the scout quickly hides the handcuffs behind him. He's nervous simply from being on the receiving end of your impatience. “I, uh, well… we didn't know if–it was just a precaution, ma'am.” 

You put out your hand and beckon with your fingers. 

The young scout separates from his group to obey your silent order, hurrying to get the act done so he can hide back among his peers. 

They're heavy. The iron is old and rusty in certain places, and the particular smell that comes with it feels intrusive to the nose. The key in your other hand is in no better condition. 

The progress with Levi’s image must have been a work of your imagination. The fact that this group resorted to handcuffs speaks volumes of where their trust stands. You don’t know what actions to take moving forward. It’s like he has retreated every step he took and gone back to the very start of the board.

Your grip on the cuffs tightens. “Leave us.”

The scouts take the hint in a quick second, offering a salute before scurrying for the door. No one dares to say anything. The silence is filled with the click of multiple heels against the floor on the way out. 

“And if I catch any of you peeping behind the door,” you add, “I promise you titans will be the least of your worries.”

The doors creak, dragged behind the soldier that closes them, sealing the two of you inside the library without the burden of prying eyes. 

Your shoulders drop with the sigh you let out. “Levi—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, nearly hissing the words.

You quirk a brow and watch as he turns his back to you. This attitude already feels foreign coming from him. There may not be a driving force inside the walls that could tame his blunt mouth, but it’s been a while since you had to put up with this kind of disobedience. 

“Calm down, Levi.” You invite his cooperation with the aloof nature of your voice, showing him that you're still open for a civilized discussion. 

He paces around the room without giving you a chance to look at his face. “Fucking damn it,” he hisses under his breath, as if to keep his frustrations the most private he can manage given the circumstances. “To hell with this place.”

“Levi–” 

“Shut up. Stop.” Still facing away from you, he gathers his bangs in a tight fist. “I'm fucking tired of you. Leave me alone.”

It doesn’t seem like he’s himself right now. Whatever he was told must have rubbed an old wound the wrong way. 

“I'm not going to blame you for what happened,” you say. “Just explain it to me.”

He continues to walk around aimlessly, twitching his fists like he's trying so hard to not punch a dent on the wall. When he speaks, it sounds squeezed. “The fuck do you think happened? It's me. It's always me. Fucking—it's my fault. Of course, it is.”

It's difficult to know what actions to take when the man known for his impenetrable exterior is also the one on the verge of collapsing. 

You fill your chest with air, then release it along with the tension in your shoulders. “Come on, Levi. I'm not saying you have to be okay right now. Just be calm enough for us to talk. I'll even treat you to some tea–” 

He insists on keeping his face away from your eyes as he crosses from one corner to another. “I've had enough of your crap. You and Erwin and this damn cause. It's… I—the titans. It's the titans. Not me.”

You can't believe how distraught he is. Did the confrontation with the scout cause this? Or has this been weeks in the making? His emotions are boiling over like he has been holding them back for years—and he may as well have. 

Your approach is soft and carefully timed, silent without trying to bypass Levi's radar. He would surely react if he suddenly found you right beside him from one moment to the next. You make sure to enter his peripheral first, leaving the handcuffs and key on the ornamental shelf of the fireplace as you walk by. 

The scowl knitting his brows shows several all-nighters under his eyes. He won't meet your gaze, but his erratic back and forth has stopped to let you come near. 

“Levi?” 

He expels a quick sigh. “Why do you keep insisting? Just leave me alone.” 

“I don't want to.”

“Don't want to or can't?” He moves past you, lightly pushing his shoulder against you as if to prove a point of rejection. 

You follow him with your eyes as he crouches to pick up a rag that was left on the floor by the fireplace. “Look,” you sigh. “I don't know how else to put it, but I can't help you if–” 

“I don't want you to help with anything. Stop bothering me.”

You head over to where he's still crouching without losing your cool exterior. “This reminds me an awful lot about the early days.” You stop directly behind him, beginning to slowly blur the lines of personal space between you. “And I don't think I like that too much.” 

Levi remains static, either deep in thought or wary of your new approach. He keeps his attention trained on the fireplace, glaring at the residues of coal from last winter for daring to exist before his presence. 

You'll give him one more chance to appease you. 

“Okay, how about this? We tidy up the place together and then—” 

“Nothing guarantees you wouldn't do a piss-poor job like the rest of those fucking numbskulls—”

He can’t say you didn’t try. 

“Alright, I've heard enough.” Your voice cuts like shards. You step around and crouch beside him to meet his face at the same level. 

As close as you are, invading his personal space with both your proximity and the hand on his shoulder, finding those silvers is inevitable. They’re distant and almost foreign. He wears his anger like a mask that insists on keeping you locked out, and you're eager to accept the challenge his resistance implies. 

“I'm losing my patience, Levi.” The sound of your voice drops to something low and silky, words uttered with a hint of menace. Your grip on his shoulder tightens. “It's like you have forgotten every lesson I taught you, and you were doing so well too. You've been sullied, little rat. Maybe I have to whip you back into shape.”

He smacks your arm off with the back of his hand. 

Your expression molds into a harsh look. “Strike one.”

“I'm not in the mood to play your games.”

“I'm quite serious.” You move in, and Levi falls back in surprise. He hits the floor, spreading his palms behind him to protect the small distance left between your face and his. 

You hover a breath away from making actual contact, your grip tight around the stone of the fireplace to keep yourself on the balls of your feet. “Let's review the basics, shall we? And it starts with remembering my title.”

“Captain,” he hisses, acting like a feral cat that's scared of a human on the street. 

“The blatant disrespect.” You fist his cravat and pull him in. “That's strike two by the way. Do you really want to risk it? We're in the library of all places, and that won't stop me from punishing you.”

He should know you’re serious. Your punishments are high-risk, high-reward. They never come easy to him, and tonight won’t be the exception if he chooses it that way. You’ll torture the submission out of him and make him your broken doll. 

He sees the intent in your eyes and expels a quiet breath through his nose. The slight drop of his shoulders communicates his surrender. “Apologies, Captain.” 

“For what?”

“My behavior.” 

You hum. “Remember your place then.”

“I’m a street rat, and you’re my captain.” 

You hold his chin in your hand, dusting your fingertips on his skin. “Yes, but you’re also my pretty boy.” 

He’s hellbent on shielding himself behind a scowl, though you have already started to pluck it apart piece by piece and it’s showing in his struggle to maintain his stare from wavering before your presence. 

“Come on,” you encourage. “Say it.”

“Do I have to?”

“You have one strike left. Wanna risk it?” 

“But this—this is…”

“Hey.” You perch between his legs and lift yourself on your knees to tower over him, balancing on his shoulders with a steady grip on each. Your breasts are leveled with his face, but he only gives them a passing look on the way to your eyes. 

The view you have places him in his rightful position: beneath you with his gaze reaching up. You find the residues of his frown keeping stubborn creases on his forehead, so you thumb the spot between his brows to untie the muscles. It doesn’t take him long to give into your touch. Several all-nighters are lifted from his face when he lets himself relax.   

You lean forward to whisper into his ear, “You’re my good boy, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so you’re going to prove it to me and take what I give you.” You spread your hand on his chest and urge him towards the floor, an action he fights by tightening his arms behind him to keep himself seated.

“What are you doing?” His voice wakes out of the spell you were slowly inducing. 

“Careful, Levi.”

“You’re implying I lie down on the floor near the fireplace no one has cleaned in months?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying.” 

He frowns again. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re beginning to tire me out, Levi.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “So are you.” 

Denying him the chance to think, much less react, you rise to your feet and press the sole of your boot on his chest. The start of a hurried ‘Captain’ crumbles on the first syllable as he hits the floor, the rest of your title leaving him in the form of a shallow exhale. 

His brows dig further into his eyes. He traps your ankle in a tight grip that you barely feel beneath the leather of your boot. “You—you’re stepping on me?” The threat that comes with the question does little to affect you. 

You look down at him from the bottom of your sight without the courtesy of tilting your face. “Words don’t influence you nearly as much as actions do, so I’m going to fucking drill this lesson into you.” 

“By ruining my clothes?” he grumbles.

You huff a quick breath through your nose. “Punishments aren’t supposed to be pleasant. Maybe you’ll grow more tolerant if I make you roll in the filth all night long.” 

The distress your suggestion ignites pushes Levi into shoving your leg off, and you teeter forward as a result, bracing against the floor on either side of his head to keep yourself from smacking face-first into him. A sting punctures your hands and travels up your arms upon contact with the hard stone. 

“Levi.” You grit your teeth. 

“I’m not sorry.”

“You will be.” 

Before you can make any movement, Levi takes a hold of your shoulders and switches positions. You hit the floor and release a quick exhale, lacking the grace that Levi possesses as he situates himself on his hands and knees above you. 

He looks down at the stain you left on his white shirt, then moves his head back up to glare into your eyes. “Now I’m filthy because of you.” 

Your arms are sprawled beside your head, unable to follow your commands while you get lost in his eyes. His shadow swallows almost every part of your face, creating what feels like a cloak that seals you away from your surroundings and exposes more of you in his proximity.

You don’t let the surprise affect you for long, and make haste to knock one of his legs with your knee, but he tightens the muscles around his thigh, rendering your efforts completely useless.

You’re seething now. “Levi,” you growl. His physical advantage has been made quite clear, and the feeling of helplessness it causes is utterly frustrating. It proves that weakness is a choice for Levi, not something you get to mold as you see fit.  

Resorting to instinct, you ram your elbow into the crook of his arm and use the couple of seconds in which he recovers to regain the upper hand. The hit isn’t powerful enough to make him budge, so you cling to him with your entire body weight and use the momentum to fling him down, switching back to your original positions. 

You've been wrestling and rolling near the fireplace. His uniform has coal stains, and you imagine yours does too. He is the most pissed about it, but you lost your patience way before then. 

“That whole stunt was strike fucking three.” You start undoing his cravat, and in spite of how quickly you try to get it off, Levi grabs both of your wrists to stop you. 

No amount of tugging makes him release you. The amused glint in his eyes catches your attention, and your chest swells with a frustrated inhale. “Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t reveal a lot in his expression, but the hint of amusement in his voice betrays him. 

Your hands curl into fists, and they tremble in his restraint. You would scream if your pride wasn’t already hanging by a thread. Winning this fight might encourage him to pull more tricks like this, and you can’t allow that. You won’t. 

The cuffs above the fireplace tease you with temptation. You will have to distract him first for any hopes of achieving something, though. 

Your knees are starting to ache, so you sit on his stomach, tucking your legs into his sides and squeezing him with your thighs. He flinches without sacrificing more than a quick breath through his slightly parted mouth. 

“My naughty boy,” you coo, giving into a mellow demeanor. You brush feather-light kisses along his knuckles, and Levi’s next thought lags for several seconds. 

He blinks a couple of times before his mind catches up. “What are you plotting?” 

You skid back on your knees, accommodating yourself on his crotch. “You’re not escaping unscathed from this. I promise you that.” 

Levi intends to say something, but the subtle roll of your hips makes him stall for a moment or two. “By grinding into me? You sure are torturing me.” His reply is sarcastic, trying so hard to not show a speck of breathlessness. 

You set up a pace, gradually coaxing your own pleasure by continuously grazing the inseam of his trousers. “Don’t act so smug. We both know your orgasms belong to me. I don’t think you even masturbate.” You spread your arms apart, still caught in Levi’s restraint, and lean down to press your smile on his ear. “Isn’t that right?”

His grip shakes, and he doesn't answer right away, thinking twice before divulging his privacy. 

“Not… much.”

“So my point still stands. Your pleasure is mine. No one can take care of you the way your captain knows how to.” 

His breathing speeds up from the stimulation, hips beginning to subtly roll in. You can feel that his hold has already loosened, but trying to free yourself now would only jeopardize your progress, so your hands stay pliant. 

While you wait for the heat of the moment to catch up to him, you allow yourself to feel him too. 

He's all hard muscle between your thighs. One would never guess he's chiseled to perfection underneath the layers. Although his clothes fit him like a glove, they make his body seem smaller and slimmer than it actually is. 

You like it too, though—how he looks in clothes; how they outline his body. You like how the lines of his frame thin out at the waist, then expand a bit when they reach his thighs. 

And you can't deny he's a beautiful man. Not in a dashing way that pulls eyes every which way. His beauty is more mysterious and quiet, tucked away behind many layers. 

He's your pretty boy. This side of him is accessible only to you. No one gets to feel his hard-on like you feel it between your legs. No one gets to hear the beautiful sounds that slip out of his control. No one gets to experience the breathtaking way in which his expression falls apart when you touch a sensitive part of him. 

Levi releases your hands, grabbing your ass so he can maneuver you on his crotch. The angle he fixes for himself makes him groan through his teeth. 

Your own body is starting to fill with tremors. Through shallow breaths, comes, “Are you close, pretty one?” 

He tosses one of his arms above his head and moans. You notice that it lands close to the iron railings that surround the firebox. While he's distracted with his pleasure, head lolling to the sides, you sit up and reach for the cuffs on the ornamental shelf of the fireplace. 

Levi's croaks turn into background noise. Your focus zeroes in on figuring out how to put them on him without wasting your single chance. You want to bind him, and for that, you will need to get the chain of the handcuffs through the iron railings, but that's easier said than done when you're dealing with a man of his reflexes. 

“I'm close, I'm close…” Levi musters out through rapid intakes of air. “Don't stop.”

In your concentration, you almost forget to grind. “Sorry about that, sweetness.” Most of your attention is set on unlocking the handcuffs. You hope the noise of the chains doesn't catch his attention before the due time. 

He moves the arm you had targeted to hide his expression against the crease of his elbow. 

You react fast, catching his wrist in the cuff. 

“What–?” Levi lifts his hand, the lust quickly scattering from his eyes. “What are you doing?” 

You drag his whole limb to the iron railings on the fireplace. 

He resists the pull. “This is bat-shit crazy.”

“And you're a naughty rat that needs to remember his place.” You tug the chain, then glare at your partner, who isn't giving in. “You're seriously going to continue digging yourself into a deeper hole?”

“What are you even trying to do?” 

“You don't want to calm down. You don't want to talk. Hell, you didn't even want tea. I gave you many chances and you bypassed them all. You said you didn't want help, but that's something I simply refuse to do, both as your superior and the other person in this relationship.”

“So you're cuffing me. That's your solution.” 

You lean in, pumping a blend of intimidation and seduction into your voice. “I'm punishing you, little rat, because the behavior you exhibited today was a direct insult to my name. That means I'm fucking you silly, and I will do it good. I'll torture you until you forget how to fucking think. I'll quiet the thoughts in your head to see if you'll stop being restless and insufferable by then. If you earn it, you'll have it. Any objections?” 

Stunned, he silently stares while your words sink in, surely enticing him. You were clear about your intentions, and it looks like Levi does want the help. To feel numb and forget. 

His muscles relax, and he stops fighting. He doesn't outright offer his hands, but his open disposition lends you the chance to control his body however you see fit. 

“That's a good boy.” The praise is mellow and sweet. He only grunts a small sound for the sake of maintaining some form of pretense while you slide the cuff through the iron rails, then shackle Levi's other wrist above his head. 

“Wait.” Levi pulls his hands like he already forgot they're restrained. The chains rattle, but his hands stay exactly where they're bound. “We're here. What if someone comes? Shit—this was a bad idea.” He moves around in spite of how futile it is. The handcuffs make louder noises as they slide against the railings. 

You pocket the key inside your jacket. “We'll be fine, little rat. We're the last ones here. The rest have already left to eat. I'm supposed to close the building after this.” You cross the room and head for the doors, peeking into the hallway through a slim opening. The scouts followed your orders and left. 

You close the doors and lock them. 

Behind you, Levi has given up on moving. The chain is too short, and he can't do anything with his hands besides keeping them above his head. You can tell that lying still on the floor makes him uncomfortable, a feeling that grows when he catches you looking at him from a distance. He bends a leg to plant the sole of his boot on the floor, using it as leverage to shift his body into a better position. 

“Stop peeping like that,” he grumbles. 

You head back to him. “Like what?” 

He averts his glare, picking a random point in the room to set it on. “Like–I don't know.”

Your approach carries on slow and imposing. Levi won't let his eyes divulge him, but there's some eagerness present when his leg slides down to join the other on the floor, leaving his body open for your return. 

You accept the invitation and swing a leg over him to take a seat on his stomach, thighs locked to the sides of his waist. “You don't know or you don't want to say it?” 

The view is pleasing to admire. His frown has lost its sharp edge, and a rosy tint expands from the bridge of his nose to both cheeks. He pulls the chains again. “I don't know.”

“Maybe I'm peeping because I'm excited to wreck you.”

He huffs. “That must be it.”

“But I also peep because you're a pretty boy.” You plant your hand beside his head and lean over, reaching with the other to card your fingers through his bangs. 

His skin wears the orange light of the nearby torches; so does his gaze as it flits across the room to escape your silent contemplation. His sudden embarrassment is endearing. 

“Such a pretty boy.” You tuck the longer strands behind his ear. “I'm sure you must have caught that.”

“I think so.”

Your hand slides down the side of his face, the back of your fingers soft against his skin. “Because you're pretty. Aren't you, my little rat?” 

He glimpses at you for only a short second before he returns his eyes somewhere else. You're staring at him like he's a baby deer in your claws. 

“I don't know.” He's trying so hard to inject strength into his remark, pretending to be annoyed. 

“No, no. You see, the answer is yes.” 

He won't look back. The facade he's insistent on faking is beginning to tire you out. You clasp his chin and jerk his face, which in turn wins you his attention. “Say it.”

His eyes screw shut. “S-shut up already.”

You release a laugh that reveals the opposite of elation. It almost sounds as though you're glad he's making this difficult, just so you have every excuse to torture him. You pull his cravat apart and yank it out. 

“Wait–” He knows what's coming. 

“I'm tired of your piece of shit mouth.” You wedge the white fabric between his teeth and tie it around his head.

Levi lets this take place by lying helpless beneath you. Your gazes line up, complete opposites in the way they stare at one another. Such is your proximity that Levi is now the one submerged in your shadow. 

“I'm really disappointed. Too disappointed. I don’t know how you plan on redeeming yourself. Maybe we should go back to lesson one.” 

You reach behind you to rub him where he yearns the most. He can bark and bite all he wants, but his hard-on cries louder than any moan he holds back. “It’s Captain to you. Do you understand?” You add some pressure to your squeeze, and Levi arches his back in response. “Captain. Our current status does not grant you leniency to dismiss that fact. You are below me, and you’ll act as such.” 

A tiny croak splits apart in his throat. He tugs at the handcuffs, shaking the chain with his struggle. God, he looks so gorgeous like this—with his mouth tied and his expression pinched, bangs messy on his forehead from sliding your fingers through them. 

“Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Still in the same tense state, he snaps his head to agree. Another sound rumbles in his mouth when your hand stops massaging him so you can start pulling the buttons of his shirt apart. 

“You lost your temper and intimidated the squad you were supposed to lead. I already told you that’s not how leadership works. Fear isn’t a reliable source to get others to follow you, Levi. When you’re outside the walls, these men are everything you have.” 

His jacket has risen up his body, following the upward pull of his arms. You won't be able to take that off, but at least the white button-up lets you expose the entire front of his body. 

You pinch his nipple. “If you keep pushing people away, a time will come when you’ll need someone, and everyone around you will turn their backs on you. Then you will know what true loneliness is. Right before you get fucking eaten.”

Levi can only squirm. It doesn't take more than twisting your fingers back and forth to make his nipple taut. 

“Stop pushing people away,” you continue. “I’m saying this for your own good, understand?” 

He nods. 

“Fucking look at me then, to show me you get it, and do it again.”

The way his brows are knitted plaster a much weakened frown on his face. He no longer wears any semblance of restraint, only showing the need for you burning strong in his squinted eyes. His teeth maul the cravat to keep the noises caged in his chest. 

He nods again. 

“Good,” you hum, releasing his nipple to bury your fingers in his hair. The next time you speak, your voice is much softer. “If I say these things to you, it’s because I know you can meet the standard, Levi. Stop self-sabotaging. You have potential. How many times must I repeat myself before you take it seriously?”

Something briefly resembling 'sorry' slithers out from his mouth. 

“I don't think you're truly sorry yet, but you will be.” Your hand leaves his hair to fall back on his crotch, and the second you make contact, Levi flinches like your touch burns him. You start kneading what you can grab over the clothes, heading for the tip. 

He's squirming into his shoulders, clutching his eyes shut and moaning. The chain of the handcuffs slides as he raises his arms on impulse, but the spiraled ornaments at the top of the railing halt his movement, and he's forced to drop his hands again. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” you say. “If it was up to me, I'd keep you like this in my office. You make me wanna call the finest painter in wall Sina so I can get a portrait to hang in my room. That's how much I like you in this state.”

His chest shrinks and expands with the air he sucks into his lungs, a pace that gets stunned when your fingers find his tip. His breathing stops for a slight moment, eyes wide like they could pop out of their sockets. Your hand continues to squeeze him, and Levi can't seem to settle between coiling tight into himself or unfurling before your eyes. 

You think you hear a muffled 'fuck' sneaking through the gag. 

He buries his face into the crease of his elbow. His hands continue to absentmindedly fight the restraints. He shifts one way, then shifts the other, rocking you off balance as he plants his feet on the ground and pushes up. 

His control is gone. He must be close. 

You remove your hand, taking in the sight of Levi snapping back on the floor with despair written across his face. 

“That’s for talking back to me.”  

He's shaking, chest jerking for air. His fists are tight and clammy from clutching around nothing. He peels his lids open to look at you through the narrow gap of his eyes. 

“I don't think you realize how fortunate you are, pretty one. There are scouts that would take different measures to educate you. Erwin and Mike aren't as permissive as me. Commander Keith might have already gotten you expelled. But me? With me, you get to cum your brains out. I'm always milking you until you're dumb. Don't you think I'm being seriously underappreciated here?” 

It looks like he wants to say something, but any crumb of thought falls apart when your hand starts massaging his sensitive cock over his clothes. 

“Don't you agree?” you repeat, emphasizing every word. 

He snaps his head up and down to express agreement. 

You maneuver your hand behind you to undo the button and zipper of his trousers without moving from his stomach. The hilled plains on his body flex with nervousness, but he lifts his pelvis to help you shimmy the waistband down to his thighs. 

With one less layer between his dick and the hand stroking him over his boxers, the pleasure overflows in his gut. You drag your caress back and forth on his length, kneading in all of the right places with your fingers. 

“Do you think you deserve to come?” 

His face is wanton, groans pouring from his mouth, but he shakes his head with a small and quick jerk. 

You chuckle, amused by his sincerity. “That's right. You don't. So what can you do to deserve it, hm? Do you promise to be a good boy?” 

He nods. 

“Will you be a good scout too?” 

He nods. 

“Can I really trust you?” 

He flings his head. Yes, he promises with his eyes. 

“Okay, but you're gonna come when I tell you to, understand?”

Levi smacks into the floor before he can offer a response, lost in the sensation of your hand wrapping around his bare cock. You think you hear him croak out, “Shit.”

He's hard and searing in your palm, wet with the cum that has leaked down from the slit. You press the tip with your thumb and watch as Levi pulls at the chains like he's trying to break the rails. His hips have started to thrust into your hand with subtle movements, and you fix your pumps to build up the momentum alongside his rhythm. 

Your actions encourage him to jerk his hips harder, swaying you back and forth as he chases release. 

“Not yet, Levi.”

“Please,” sounds muffled, so needy. You notice his pinched eyes and wonder if he's seeing stars behind his lids from how strong he's holding them together. 

The next sound he releases possesses the desperation of someone who's about to snap. 

“No,” you order. “Wait.” Your voice promises consequences should he be daring enough to disobey. 

He struggles to speak through the gag. I can't. 

“I guess you can't then.” So your fist stops on the base of his shaft and squeezes. “Just a little more, Levi.” 

A jumble of torment and thrill bleeds over his face, building an expression that makes him look almost unhinged. He could thrust up, but this night has shoved the meaning of obedience down his throat. 

You spend the short pause brushing a vein on the underside of his shaft while Levi dances over the line that divides pain from pleasure. 

He surrenders to the fate you bestow upon him and remains pliant on the floor, expressing the heavy need to react to your touch with only the clench of his fists. 

“I can barely recognize you.” Your fist starts pumping him again. “You're squirming like a whore in my hand.” 

His legs bend, heels skidding against the floor to expel energy for all of the times he can't do anything with his hands. The position of his cock inside his boxers hinders the fluidity of your strokes, so you pull it out. 

As sensitive as he is, it seems even the air that kisses his tip drives him insane. 

“I think I'm finally starting to feel sorry for you. I mean look at you.”

Levi's gaze burns through you, begging like a starved man for you to give it to him. 

Your hand glides like you were fisting glossy satin. “Yes, pretty one. It's alright. I'm giving you permission now.” 

He lets go of the mental restraints trying to keep some last semblance of control over his reactions and finally surrenders to the needs of his body. He kicks the floor with both feet and thrusts his hips up like he's aiming for the ceiling. You almost fall off, but your hand keeps moving, even if you have to support your weight on one knee and keep your arm extended behind you. 

He releases ropes of cum through the web of your fingers and over his stomach. The desperate and starved way in which he falls apart imprints itself into your brain. You can't find any trace of him in his widened eyes. The croaks pouring from his mouth are deep, and they dig straight into your stomach. 

“Okay,” you breathe, trying not to moan simply from watching him. “One orgasm. That pays your ticket out of the cravat.”

He rides his pleasure until the extra stretch of time calls for his immediate attention. 

Your hand works his cock like you have yet to realize he already came, and a muffled plea tries to warn you against it, but your pumps remain fast and insistent while he gets hard again. 

“Your hands are also gonna cost you one orgasm each.” You leave his cock aroused and weeping, feeling the soreness only after you have your arm back in front of you, coated in his slick. You support yourself on your knees and your other hand, unable to sit on his stomach now that it's covered in cum. 

Despite his exhaustion, he has enough awareness to understand what you just said, and it pulls his glossy silvers towards you, trying to spot the lie in your words. 

But your expression is serious. You lean forward and reach for the back of his head, loosening the knot with your clean hand. “Say even one thing out of line and I'm putting this on you again, and getting it off will cost you extra, which I don't think your dick will be able to handle. Mind what you say.” 

The nod of his head promises that he will. 

You pull the cravat off and fold it into a small square to pocket it inside your jacket. 

He stops heaving through his nose and uses his mouth instead. The cornered rat doesn't have an ounce of strength or will left to defy you, and he won't dare to risk saying even a single word without your lead. 

You place both of your palms beside his head to hover over him. “Alright, now you can properly apologize.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Captain.” He's breathless and desperate under your shadow, staring up at you like a wounded animal. “I'm really sorry. I'm sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I disrespected you. You deserve better from me. I insulted your name and ignored the lessons you taught me. I made you repeat yourself. I'm sorry.”

He's still as you move closer, unable to protect his features behind a stoic mask. He lets you eat him up in his most vulnerable state—and you're sure he's secretly enjoying it. 

“And what were those lessons?” 

His intended answer gets swapped with the moan that escapes him when your teeth close around the cartilage of his ear. His first instinct wants him to coil into his shoulders, but upon realizing that his movement only gets in the way, he exposes himself to your lips again. “You're my Captain. Always my Captain. You deserve only my best behavior. I won't do it again. I'll be a good boy, I swear.”

“Oh, I know you will.” You reward him with a kiss on his jawline. The sheen of sweat on his skin leaves a salty tang on your lips, but you scatter small gifts of affection down his face, skipping his neck to continue on his collarbone. “And what else did I teach you?” 

He arches his back, relinquishing control to your tongue. “Ah, I–teamwork. I must mind my temper.” His words crumble when your mouth opens over a protruded bone to suck on his skin. “Shit—I won't push people away. I'll stop self-sabotaging.”

You descend his chest on your knees and hands, nibbling souvenirs over various scars. Then you make it to his abdomen, and with a deep look into his wanton eyes, you stick out your tongue to clean the cum on his skin. 

He squirms, and his expression twists into one of heavy torture. “Captain…”

His muscles are tight against your tongue even though he's liquid on the floor. It's like you're licking saltiness off a hard candy. His dick is just below your line of sight and it's becoming harder to not look at it. 

“You have potential,” you remind him. 

“I have,” he swallows, “potential.”

“Good job, Levi. That's a good fucking boy.” You lift your head. “And good boys deserve rewards. You want your reward, Levi?” 

His response is a meek, “Please.”

Without disengaging from his eyes, you grab the waistband of his boxers. “You think we can pull this down?” 

You've taken him through several highs for weeks, but not once have you seen his dick before. 

For a moment, you start doubting if he even heard you. His stare lacks focus, and it's as though he's looking through you even if you're the only one in his field of vision. 

“Please,” he says. You wouldn't have heard him if you'd been further away. 

“That's so kind of you, pretty one.” You scoot back on your knees, pulling his boxers. Levi helps you by lifting his pelvis, and you get them down to his thighs. 

His dick rests against his stomach, erect and flushed from base to tip, jutting out of his clean-shaven crotch. 

A small groan slips through his teeth. You look up and find the most endearing sight—Levi hiding into his arm, expression tight with dread. The longer you wait, the more time he has to overthink. He's never been this bare in front of anyone before. It's only natural he would get like this. 

You show him a much softer side of you, hoping to comfort him. “So this is what you were trying to keep from me? So fucking unfair of you.”

He won't loosen up until you start doing something, so you bring your fist around his dick to pump him. 

That drags him out of his shell. He can't help but pull at the chains. 

Everything you once felt with your hand is now exposed to your eyes. You admire his thick cock, running your palm along the veins on the underside. When you make it to his red tip, your thumb layers over it and rubs in circles. 

“Fuck, please. I–I'm so sorry.”

“It's alright, Levi. You don't have to keep apologizing.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're so good to me— please.” He arches his back and moans through an open mouth. You have to sit on his thighs because he's moving so much. 

“I know you're sorry, Levi.” You give him a moment to catch his breath. 

He's panting, nearly weeping from stimulation. The beads of cum on his stomach give his skin an enticing glow. You lean down to pick them up with your tongue, feeling Levi suck his stomach in. 

His dick is there. Right beside the tongue that ignores it in favor of his prominent v-line. You're teasing him, and he might be seconds away from selling his soul to the devil for some relief. 

“Please,” he squeezes through the knot in his throat. 

You run your hands up and down his thighs, mouth chasing them for their own share of skin. You descend beside his dick, watching beneath your lashes as Levi fights the chains like he's trying to break them—maybe he is. 

“God, please.”

You pepper kisses on his thigh, moving up to the crease where his leg meets his pelvis to latch on a spot of skin and suck. Levi goes ballistic in your hands, and you have to hold him down so he doesn't smack into your teeth. 

You'll give him a mark that'll be sure to remind him for the whole remainder of the week who he belongs to. He won't be able to get naked without the memory of you plaguing his head after this. 

You drag your lips over to his other thigh so it doesn't stay neglected. He evidently likes it when you kiss and wedge your tongue around his skin, but he reacts the most when you nibble and suck with bruising pressure. 

Dark hickeys and bite marks decorate the expanse of his thighs by the time you've had you fill, most of them situated near each other because there's not an inch of him you could ignore, and Levi is a puddle of mush on the floor, heaving like a man who has wrestled through a storm to arrive at shore. 

You climb up his hipbone with your mouth and lift yourself a breath above his throbbing dick, puffing warm air that Levi receives with a quiet mewl. His thighs are shaking under your hands. 

“Pretty dick for a pretty boy. I always knew.” You drag the tip of your tongue along his shaft, stopping to check his reaction. 

A strangled sound shoots out like you punched it out of him. His jaw is slack when you look up into his wide stare. All of this is completely new to him. 

“You liked that?” 

He flicks his head to express an eager yes. 

“You want more?” 

He swallows, then musters out, “If you can.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I can.”

He looks like he's going to burst when you take him in your palm. He's a glass of water a few drops short of overflowing and you're ready to witness the moment he'll completely snap. You guide the tip of his cock to your mouth, pressing a kiss over the layer of cum before parting your lips for him. 

He arches his back. “O-oh, God. You're killing me–fucking killing me.”

You wouldn't hear better prayers in a church. His words travel through you, hammering your bones with their deep rumble. More. You want more. 

You press the flat side of your tongue against the underside of his shaft while your teeth tease the hot skin, and you swear a broken record of the whine he lets out would be enough to make you come. 

“That okay?” you murmur around his dick, letting him feel the hot air and vibration of your words. 

“Yes. Please. Please.”

Salty beads ooze out of his slit, which you are quick to pick up with your tongue. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and twist. Your mouth releases him to drag kitten licks along his shaft, soft like the work of a paintbrush. 

Your free hand travels back and forth on his torso, whispering reassurances with the sweet nature of your touch. He's in your care, and you won't let anything happen to him. You won't leave him hanging either. 

You lean your head down, heading to his balls, but your grip on the base glides up and down to cover for your mouth. He's burning in your palm like never before. 

His balls are just as sensitive, and he reacts well to your tongue lapping their soft tissue. You make sure to be more gentle around them. And he's fucking loving it. You have a feeling he'd already have his fingers digging through your hair if his hands were free. He would have tried to make you swallow his entire cock. 

Your cunt pulses with the thought. You haven't touched yourself once, but you don't need to. He's all you crave right now. All you could possibly want. 

It's likely he won't last. You've been edging him out of the plane of sanity for a while and he still owes you a third orgasm. You want him in your mouth before he lets go. 

You announce your return with a long, wet stripe along the shaft. Your hand settles on his base, and the other one moves to press his pelvis down, holding him as still as you can while his cock enters your mouth. 

He cries out.

You think your heart might have plummeted into your stomach. That sound was the epitome of helplessness and abandon. You had never heard his voice reach so high on the range. 

You swallow the layer of cum on your way down his length, then retreat to suck air back into your lungs. Your fist moves to keep him stimulated. 

“Fuck,” you moan. “I love your cock.”

He seems so out of it, and you weren't expecting him to hear you. “I love… your mouth.” 

You gather beads of cum from the head to spread them around his dick. “You're gonna come down my throat so fucking hard.”

Your comment has the effect of lightning striking down on him. His thighs jerk under your weight, but they're too weak to move you. He feeds you a beautiful moan.

“I swear you are.” You kiss the head of his cock and part your lips around it, chasing after the hand you slide back to the base. 

“You're so good to me,” he slurs, inhaling a sharp breath as you start bobbing your head. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”

Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, twisting and gripping the red-hot skin that envelops his hard cock. You lift yourself on your knees to take him deeper, pushing past your limits to get his tip into the back of your tongue. Fluids drip down from the corners of your mouth. You don't know if it's your spit or his cum. He's leaking a lot.  

Your throat constricts around him. You can only resist your gag reflex one time before the need to retreat is too strong to ignore. 

It's been so long. You'll have to get used to it again. 

He glimpses from a single eye. “Are you… okay?” 

You wipe your mouth with your thumb. “Yeah, don't worry.”

“Don't push yourself.”

“I'll be fine.” You start pumping him before he loses his edge. His cock is wet with your spit, and your hand slides with more ease. 

He enjoys this too. His eyes are about to cross over. His bangs are sticky on his forehead. His own saliva is dripping down his mouth. You can't stop looking at him. He's so perfect. 

“I'm the best thing that's ever happened to your cock, aren't I?” You suck the head and push him into your mouth, letting your hand work the other half of his cock so there's nothing stopping you this time around. 

He whimpers. He's hyperventilating now. You know he's close. 

“Say it,” you order. 

He’s gyrating out of his fucking mind. The chains rattle with the strength of his anguish, yet the sounds escaping him are far louder. “You're the best thing that's ever happened to my cock. Fuck—I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Can I cum? I swear—” 

“Come, sweetness. I'll swallow everything.”

He's lolling his head to the sides, nearly crying as ribbons of cum squirt inside your mouth. You don't let a single drop go to waste. The taste differs slightly from what you were licking on his dick. Tangy at best, but not at all offensive. 

After you release him, a short pause follows in which you take a handkerchief out to clean your hand, letting his dick go soft on his stomach so he can catch a break. You trust his stamina to bring his erection back up in a bit. 

Levi is shaking, utterly spent. You don't think he's feeling his muscles, looking as though he could melt out of the chains at any moment. 

“You were so good, Levi.” You take the key out and release his left hand from its confines, securing the cuff on the railing to keep his other one bound. His whole arm is limp in your care, and upon noticing the pink markings on his wrist, you bring it up to your gentle mouth. “Such a good boy,” you murmur against his skin. 

He can’t offer a reaction he doesn’t already have on him. His whole face is flushed and his expression remains broken. 

“We’re almost there,” you say, pocketing the key inside your jacket. “Just one more.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. We’ll take it slow.” You place his arm beside him, swapping your attention to the sticky bangs you brush from his lidded eyes. 

“I'm disgusting right now.”

While you drink him in, you can only think about how that's far from the truth. The pristine image he hides behind, the one he shows to the world, has its own charm, and is an integral part of him. There's no denying that his skill in the battlefield is a sight to behold, but in your opinion, he looks the most ethereal when he's fucked out and glowing. 

“Nonsense. You're gorgeous.” Your fingers continue to card through his hair, and you watch as he struggles to keep his eyes from slithering back. 

“You're gorgeous.” The words are slurred, and he's half-awake. The near equivalent of inebriated. Not only that, but you've said it to him many times. Your heart shouldn't be swelling like it wants to burst. This sudden rush of excitement is unreasonable, and you can't make it stop. You can only pretend to ignore it. 

“Is your arm doing okay? Can you still feel it?” 

“I can't feel any part of my body.”

You run your palm up and down his arm. “You'll be fine, pretty one.”

“I trust you.”

You hum and sit on his stomach, focused on kneading his muscles with your fingertips. “That's good.” 

“I'm sorry I made you feel unappreciated.”

“You don't have to keep apologizing, Levi.”

“I do appreciate you. More than I dare to admit. I think I trust you too much. You're the only one I have–” He barely reacts when your hand falls on his mouth. 

The words he's spilling only make you want to kiss him, and the scariest part is that, as things stand, you know he would respond to it. 

It's scary because you realize it wouldn't be enough. You want to be sure he means it, that he would still do it when he's not this broken. You want too much out of it, and that's not how it was supposed to be. 

“Okay, we're done talking.” You lean down, willing to put your mouth anywhere on his body so long as your mind gets a distraction.

It finds his sternum, and your lips pucker over the longest scar to create a new mark. His heart speeds up beside it, as if demanding its own share, so you drag your mouth over his heated skin to place another bruise there. You wonder if it’s wrong to assume that every thunderous beat in his chest automatically belongs to you. 

You aren’t prepared to feel Levi’s fingers pushing strands of hair behind your ear. Like a chord that is pulled taut, your focus snaps and you glance up, stunned beyond words when you encounter fervent eyes in the midst of their blatant admiration. 

Your chest feels heavy. It's like his gaze burns right through you and settles there. It's taking everything in you to not let yourself be guided by your emotional urges. 

You hide yourself on his chest, mouth parting just above a purple bruise to add another one close by. Levi's fingers slice through your hair as they move to the back of your head, where he spreads his hand open to secure you to him. 

A stubborn thought suggests that you should slap his hand off to retain control, but you can't bring yourself to do it. His intention is far from domineering. More than holding your scalp, he's cradling it, and you're physically incapable of rejecting such a touch. 

You press the flat side of your tongue on his nipple and flick it, tracing in circles so it turns wet and pebble-like in your mouth. You switch to the other one and repeat the same actions. Your hands caress up and down his sides, picking up heat and sweat with your palms. 

Levi lolls his head to the side and expels a breathy, low moan into the little space separating your faces. You feel the air warm and humid on your forehead as you continue nibbling on his chest. 

He pulls his leg up, unable to take what you give him without reacting in some way, and the brisk contact between your back and his thigh ends up pushing you forward. 

Your lips slide into his neck, and the sharp inhale above you makes you snap your body up so you're sitting on his torso, away from his face. “Shit, I'm sorry. It was an accident.”

He's staring up at you, eyes wide like he has seen a ghost. His woven brows create something resembling a tortured look. 

You don't know what to make of his reaction. “That bad?” 

“I…” He blinks. In his silence, you become aware of the frissons that have risen where your hands are pressing in. “Just a lot.”

“I see. Well, I'll be more careful.”

“You can try again.”

You stop to look at him, searching for any hint of doubt. “Are you sure?” 

“If it's slow.” His response doesn't sound fully certain, but he's curious enough to want to figure out his limits. 

You nod. “Okay. Slow it is.” 

You start on his collarbone, filling the dips between his bones with the tip of your tongue. Be it expectation or how sensitive he is after everything that has already transpired, Levi hitches a breath and sinks into his shoulders. 

“You'll be fine, pretty one. I'll take care of you just right.” Your mouth skips to the spot where his neck meets his jaw, peppering kisses without straying too far. 

Levi traps a small whimper in his throat, but the hand he slides from your head to your nape encourages you to remain there. 

You nudge his pulse point with the outline of your lips, barely touching his skin. Since there's no rejection from him, you press in a second time, this time to a point in which you can properly feel it fluttering. 

“Ah, fuck–” Levi squirms, chills bristling across his body. “What—the fuck is this?” 

“You're sensitive,” you chuckle, ghosting down to the side of his neck. 

He's pushing out loud breaths from his open mouth, stomach bouncing beneath you. When you skim to the center of his throat, his grip on your nape tightens. “Oh, fuck. There.”

You kiss up to his larynx, then a raspy moan claws up his throat and shakes you to your core. “God, Levi.” His last response encourages you to catch some skin between your teeth. Soft touches be damned. It's clear now that he wants you to nibble him as much as you do. 

“Please.” 

You descend a little and suck another mark there. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He tosses his arm across the floor, muscles turned to mush. “I'm hard. I'm hard now. Please.”

You lick a wet stripe up the length of his throat, stopping on his jawline to shower it with attention. “Can't you see I'm busy? Do something about it yourself. You have an entire free arm.”

With the way he's reacting, you wouldn't have been surprised if you'd caught him stroking himself, but his hand is lying on the floor, ignoring his dick. You can tell this man hasn't touched himself enough. Despite the urge to reach behind you and grip him in your palm, you keep your hand perched on his bicep. 

You finish installing a bruise on his pulse point and rise in search of his eyes. He keeps them shut, teeth clenching hard around nothing. 

“I mean it, Levi.” 

“W-what?” His voice is meek. He peels one lid open, confused about your statement. 

“You're gonna be pleasing yourself for this last round.”

“But it… it doesn't feel the same.”

“So I'm gonna teach you.” You lean closer. “Teach you how to use your own dick. Who would have thought? Not that you'll be ever able to fill in for me, but I'm feeling quite generous tonight.”

“Can't you just do it?” 

“I don't think you realize how sweet a deal this is. Do it yourself, and yes, that is an order.” You sink back into his neck, closing your lips just above his pulse point, prepared to claim more of him for yourself. 

He tips his chin up, stretching his throat to its limit. You hold the side of his face in your hand, thumb gliding back and forth on the corner of his parted mouth. 

“Stop being shy, Levi. I already had your whole dick in my mouth. Come on.” 

His reaction doesn't come right away. He savors the next mark you put on him, allows himself to feel as your other hand rubs up and down his chest, massaging him, before you notice his free arm crossing the corner of your sight, heading behind you. 

His muscles tense beneath you, and several curses bunch up in his throat. You fight every instinct telling you to sit back and enjoy the view since he might not feel comfortable with the prospect of going all out without a decent distraction. 

“That's a good boy,” you murmur into his throat. “Rub that cock nice and easy.”

He hides his face in his arm to bury a moan there, exposing more virgin skin on the side of his neck, which you're eager to worship and claim as yours. 

You learn he likes your lips anywhere near his ear almost as much as he likes them over his Adam's apple. His skin is hot, sweaty and layered with chills. He swallows every few seconds, the muscles in his throat flicking under your mouth. 

His shoulders shiver, and his spine snaps up. A beautiful croak grazes his walls, voice silky and so deep you feel it rolling into your stomach. 

“Stop.” You only have that one command at your disposal, but it garners Levi's obedience in an instant. He stills his fist, and you raise your head to look at him, holding back a grin. “Oh, so you have learned, huh?” 

With half of his face buried in his arm, your only view is the tight clench of his teeth. 

“Be a good boy and press on that beautiful, flushed head for me, will you?” 

The whole front of his body bounces when he does. 

“Rub slowly,” you whisper. “You don't want to cum so fast. Where's the fun in that?” Your hand rises to push his longer bangs behind his ear.

You admire the velvet marks scattered over the entire length of his neck. His favorite spots are the most bruised, serving as an enticing reminder for both you and him that will stay burned on his skin for several days to come. He won't be able to look in the mirror without thinking of you. 

His next inhale slithers into his throat, coaxing a high moan. 

“Grip yourself,” you instruct. “Tight. And stop moving your thumb.”

The shackles rattle above his head. He wouldn't dare to disobey you, so his options are limited to cursing and shifting around in sheer frustration. 

“That's my pretty boy. Twist your fist, but keep it in place for me.” You skim the back of your fingers across his cheek, leaning down to place your smile against his ear. “When you're doing this by yourself, you're supposed to think that's my hand fucking you.”

He moans. 

“Yeah, and you can be certain I'll be somewhere else, thinking about you, wishing that was my hand too.”

“Oh, God. I'm cumming.”

“No, you're not. Loosen your grip, Levi. Just enough to keep you from coming.”

He obeys, of course. There's nothing else he would rather do. 

You plant a kiss on his jawline, tasting the saltiness of his sweat on your lips. “Slide down to the base of your pretty dick.” After giving him time to execute the action, you add, “Twist there, not too hard. How does it feel?”

“Like torture,” sounds muffled into his arm, woven between shallow breaths. 

“Well, yeah. You wouldn't have it any other way with me, and remember this is supposed to be my hand. You can't break from your role, Levi. I'm training you to make sure you don't when I'm not around.” You lick the cartilage of his ear, feeling him shiver under your tongue. “Now move your hand up.”

“Please,” he groans. 

“Soon, Levi. Soon. Rub the tip with your palm. Don't go too fast.”

He bends his back, then snaps down. His heels kick the floor, expelling his exasperation. “Come on.”

“Patience.” You cup his red cheeks in your palms and pull his face out of hiding. “And look at me, Levi.”

His eyes stay shut. “I'm a mess right now.”

“A gorgeous mess.”

He squints at you, breathing hard into your face. You can smell just a touch of earthiness from the tea he drank in the afternoon. 

Gorgeous indeed. The red of his skin spreads from his chest to the tip of his ears. His gaze is an open window letting you look into the deepest parts of him, silver irises soft and glinting, liquefied into a puddle of lust for you. 

You want him. Really want him. And you already have him, but that doesn't stop the feeling of wanting him so badly. 

“Make it tight, Levi.” 

His eyes fall shut, so you move your thumb to his cheekbone, calling his gaze back to you. 

“Jerk yourself,” you say. “And twist your hand.”

He is quick to reach a point where he can't keep himself quiet. His lungs give him away, and they're desperate for a break. You lean down to place a feather-light kiss under his eye, telling him it's okay. You'll take care of him the right way. 

When you retreat, his eyelids have keeled over again, and he's squeezing them tight. 

“Please let me look at you, sweetness.”

The way you say it makes him relent right away. It isn't an order, but he obeys you like it was. 

Your hands keep his face positioned in your line of sight, thumbs dusting over his cheekbones. “That's better.” 

Whatever feelings you might be exposing through your face, he's seeing them head on, and it's completely out of your control. 

He gasps, and he's looking at you when he does. The sound is thin and quite weak. You stop feeling your bones. 

“I'm close,” he whispers, barely able to form the words. 

“Make it tight. Really tight.”

He moans, eyes slipping shut as he lifts his chin, but your reminder comes crashing down on him and he finds your face again, desperate, starved. Your surroundings blur, losing the spotlight to the way he looks at you—like you were the most precious thing in his world. 

“Faster.” You whisper this like it's a secret. “Faster, much faster.”

His pupils slither back, head following suit. This is Levi in one of his purest forms. No armor to protect him. No remarks to hide behind. He's handing over his orgasm to you, no holds barred. 

“I'm–” 

“Come now, Levi. I'll take care of you.” You lift yourself on your hands and knees so he can empty himself on his stomach. 

Messy, unhinged and loud, Levi comes hard. A cry falters before it leaves his mouth, mixed with breathless moans and a croaky spur of worship to your name. 

It's not often you hear him say it, and you don't think anyone has ever made it sound so enticing. You raise a hand to hold him through it, keeping your touch firm but gentle on his cheek. “Good boy, Levi.”

His whole body melts on the floor, arm dropping beside him. He can't leave his eyes open anymore, much less keep his mouth shut. His head lolls to the side, where it stays against your palm.

“Good boy,” you coo again. “You did so well.” 

After his arm is freed, it stays limp in your hand. You skim your mouth over the pink markings on his wrist, murmuring sweet praises as you look at him, spent, sweaty and so beautiful. 

He's a beautiful man. Truly. 

You place his arm on the floor and scoot down his body, taking out your handkerchief to wipe the cum off his stomach and then his hand. “Are you okay?” 

He can only offer a lazy hum. 

You fix him up while he recovers his breath. He can't even lift his hips to help you get his pants back into place, drowsy with all of the torture you put him through. His shirt is next. You button it up to his neck so it covers the marks and fold the collar of his jacket into a proper position. 

It doesn't work like magic. His clothes have many creases, the fabric damp with sweat and sticking to his body. You aren't too far off. 

Levi shuffles to sit, helping himself up with his hands positioned behind him. He acts slowly so you have the time to rearrange yourself without falling off. You weren't expecting him to recover in less than a minute, but his remarkable stamina isn't recent news either. 

The space he leaves between his parted legs invites you to remain close to him. He pulls his knees up, feet planting on either side of you. Without touching any part of your body, it's like he's wrapped around you. 

You're quick to push through that barrier, reaching with your fingers to pat his hair down. He remains open to your touch, so you give him more of it. Your other arm lifts to cup the side of his face in your hand. “Is your mind quiet now?” 

He inclines his head an inch to the front and closes his eyes. “Yeah, I'm sorry,” he says. “About earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah.” The whole weight of his head falls on your palm. If he wasn't speaking, you would think he fell asleep. “This is fine for now.”

“Okay.” You swallow, hoping that your heart falls back into place so you can stop feeling it in your throat. 

There's a lot that is different. A lot that is too much. And although you know your hand shouldn't be cradling him like this, and Levi knows he shouldn't be welcoming it, neither of you dare to move a muscle, trying to stretch the moment until the last possible second; right before the bubble bursts and you're shoved back into the roles of captain and thug.

Chapter Text

The moment there's even the slightest hint of anything, we call it off.

Levi’s words are ringing in your mind for a reason. It means you know better than to pretend something isn’t already there; that you not only surrendered first, but are also the most gullible of the two for entertaining these thoughts. 

The flame is still small—that or the extent of your feelings is blurred. Whichever the case, it doesn't matter. The problem is that there's something. Something that can be nurtured. A spark that could grow if you're not careful. It’s tender in your heart, and despite its early stage, it's almost addicting; a sweet taste of weakness that wouldn't be so terrifying if the circumstances were different. 

“Hey, girl!” 

Hange’s greeting catches you at the entrance of the common area, snapping your bubble of thought as you glance up from the floor. Like you, they must have decided to enjoy the privacy of the officer’s building rather than sticking around in the mess hall.  

You walk in. “Good evening, Hange.” 

“Keep an eye out for Clach when you're in the main building. I can't find him anywhere.”

“The salamander?” 

“Yeah, he suddenly ran off before I could take him to the lab. I'm worried someone might step on him.”

You halt your step on the other side of the table and fold your arms across your chest. “You deliberately lop his tail off whenever it grows, Hange. I think you're the only danger he's trying to escape.”

Hange tilts their chin up, projecting pride with the short but precise movement. “I can assure you he likes me.”

“Sure,” you chuckle. 

“What's up with our favorite grumpster by the way?”

You flinch, grip tight on your biceps to repress your growing frustration. “He's still at it? What did he do now?” 

They wave you off. “Oh, nothing, nothing. I'm just saying that something about him seems amiss.”

“In what way?” 

“Like he's out of it, I guess.” Hange shrugs. “No clue. I figured you might know.”

As a matter of fact, you kind of know, but only a little more than Hange. You peeled layer after layer off until he was the barest you have ever seen him and that still didn’t shed light on the cause of his torment. All you can do is connect certain dots and make a guess. 

“As talented as he is,” you say, “I think he's struggling with the aftermath of expeditions more than he cares to let on.”

Hange places an elbow on the table to hold their cheek in their palm. “Ah, yes. Well, at the end of the day, he's human just like us, so what can you do? No amount of talent's gonna change that.”

You blink, realizing that Hange is right. Levi's cold exterior and God-given abilities won't ever take away from the fact he's just as prone to mistakes and weakness as the rest. He just exhibits it in different ways. 

The idea wasn't alien to you, but Erwin planted a seed of doubt with his last visit by insinuating you were exaggerating your concerns, that you weren't focusing enough on the end goal. 

You hum in agreement to your friend's words. “Thanks, Hange.”

“Huh?”

You head over to the counter, set on brewing some tea to take to Levi wherever he might be. “I don't think enough people see it—that he's human. It's nice to hear it from someone else. Erwin sees a weapon. The scouts only see a thug. I'm trying not to lose my patience here. I really am.” You reach for the cupboards above your head to grab the kettle and a box of green tea blend. 

“Look at you two,” Hange chuckles, following your strides across the counter with their eyes. “Considering the way things started, I never would have guessed he'd eventually grow on you like this.”

Neither did you, but he's more than just an underground thug. You wouldn't have these particular emotions if the latter wasn't true. He's soft at his core, and the front he holds up protects it.  

You shrug off their intake as if it doesn't represent half of the weight you feel in your chest. “I just understand him a little better.” 

“I know the road hasn't been smooth, but he's evolving without a doubt. You've been doing the work of the lord, girl. Take pride in this accomplishment.”

You place the kettle, now filled with water, above the fire, humming like you're struggling to accept the compliment. God knows you've been trying to understand Levi since day one, only to be shut out the second you attempt anything remotely suspicious to him.

It's gotten easier over time. You eventually learned about his trauma with loss and death, but anything beyond that is uncharted territory. 

“I feel like he's stuck. Stuck in the past. There's a lot that's bothering him. A lot he keeps thinking about. I don't know how to help him. He doesn't like to talk.” You lean against the counter, crossing your arms. 

Hange turns on the chair to return the attention in equal measure. “Look, I'm all in for solidarity, so don't take this the wrong way. Just wondering if you're aware this might be going beyond your duties as his supervisor.”

Your feelings make it confusing, but it isn’t like you haven’t helped anyone in such a way before. It’s an important part of anyone’s journey. Healing, that is; and growing. You might be one of the few, if not the only one, in the regiment who gives mental health any thought. 

“Levi can't move forward without turning the page,” you say. “He keeps holding grudges, doubting himself, thinking he isn't enough. He won't be able to hold the weight of the regiment like this.”

Hange looks thoughtful. “I see.”

You purse your lips. Their reaction reminds you of Erwin, who bore a similar expression when you brought up your concerns. “You don't think I'm overreacting, right?” 

Hange relaxes into the backrest of their seat. “Nah. If there was enough regard for mental health around these parts, you wouldn't sound so out of place, I'm sure.”

“Probably,” you huff. “Erwin definitely questioned me.” 

“Well, you know how he is. Just be careful where you place your passion the next time you're around him.”

A sense of wariness rises, visible in the slight shift of your body. Your expression becomes more guarded, matching the way your voice sounds when you ask, “What does that mean?”

Hange, on the other hand, remains open and nonchalant. “I'm just saying the way you react to safeguard Levi could raise a few eyebrows.”

You shake your head and click your tongue, the doubt on your face evolving into a stern grimace. “So you're insinuating too. I should have known. You people are quick to jump to conclusions.” You turn around to grab a couple of teacups from the cupboard. “Good grief. We're all adults here, not—” 

Hange cackles. “Hey, girl, cool down! It's not like I'm suggesting you're fucking him or anything.” 

A teacup slips from your fingers, and in a desperate attempt to catch it, your hands flail around like you were trying to swat flies, eventually trapping it between your chest and both hands. 

For a split second, you thought your friend was accusing you. Instincts took a hold of you, making you jump to conclusions before the sentence could fully register in your head.

That short incident pulled all the breath out of you. Chest swelling, eyes wide and situated on the empty wall in front of you, you swallow the lump in your throat and wait in silence for your heart to slow down. 

It's a given Hange catches the involuntary strain in your demeanor. “Hey–” 

“Zip it.” You leave the teacups on the counter, your movements unintentionally rough. The slip-up only helps to fan the flames.

Hange's jaw drops. “Oh my God.”

Your lids slide shut as you sigh. “Hange, I swear–” 

“Are you actually…?” 

It takes you a single beat to spin around. “No.”

But you don't believe it, and Hange's contemplation states they don't believe you either. Your mouth opens and closes in search of words, spitting out air rather than crafted lies. You can't work with a frantic mind. 

“Girl, in all seriousness…” Hange is quick to adapt to the shift in the conversation, displaying it with a tamer sound of voice. It's not often that you get to be the recipient of their serious side, though whenever it comes to the surface, it's never without good reason. 

The stubborn side of you continues to suggest maybe you can fool your friend. “Hange, it's not–” 

“You're his superior. I know the rules don't mean much to anyone, but they still exist, and Erwin was the one who entrusted Levi to you. You know how much Erwin values him.” 

It’s been a while since you felt this dumb and immature. Hange of all people is giving you a lecture on military codes and regulations. That's how you know your actions cross grounds far more complicated than a mere case of misconduct. You're jeopardizing Erwin's trust and tainting his precious prodigy. 

You stare at the floor. “Well, damn. Okay.”

A quick sigh shoots from their lips. “Look, emotions are complicated. Being loyal to you isn't the same as being loyal to the scouts; loyal to the cause.”

Hange's right. Of course they're right. 

“Yes, I know,” you admit, taking the kettle from the fire. The water was already boiling. Normally, you would have retrieved it sooner, but the conversation hasn't given you a chance to keep track of the minutes. “You're making this whole ordeal sound illegal.” 

While the kettle rests on top of a kitchen rag, you drop a teaspoon of the green tea blend into each cup. Your focus remains solely on your hands as they work. It's much easier to take the brunt of Hange's stare with the back of your head. 

“But I can't deny your points,” you add. “So what are you suggesting?” 

“As I said before, Levi is making progress thanks to you, and again, the rules aren't anyone's priority, so it's your choice in the end. I'm only stating the risks as your friend.”

The situation didn’t feel like an issue at first. Then Hange found out. How long before another person catches on? And then the next? Not only that, but you'd be subjected to different opinions and insinuations since it's no mystery you've had several pupils under your wing before.

It's evident you aren't putting the same effort into preserving your reputation these days, but you still care about it. Hange's calling you back to earth with their reminder. You'd do well to give your friend's words some thought. 

“I appreciate your concerns,” you say, pausing to expel a quick breath. “I've never done this before by the way. With anyone else.”

“That stubborn mule must have riled you up with his attitude, huh?” 

The shift in Hange's demeanor comes abruptly. Light returns to their face, eyes gaining their gleeful sparkle. You can tell they're tired of dealing with the somber mood. Neither of you are used to being tense around one another and it's time to give it a rest. 

You follow Hange's intentions and bend your lips into a soft smile. “Is it too late to insist this is just some crazy theory of yours?” Steam hits your face when you pour the water from the kettle into the teacups. 

They smack the table with their palm, their energy skyrocketing. “I'm so curious now! What does he look like when he's—” 

“Good night, Hange.” The delivery of that sentence is heavily pronounced. You take a cup in each hand and turn for the door. What remains of your tarnished dignity shows in your insistence to keep your head held up high until your last moment in sight. 

“Caught him on the main building's third floor earlier by the way,” Hange says behind you. The chair scrapes as they stand up, no doubt to fix a cup of tea for themselves.

You shake your head, unable to keep your lips in a straight line. “Duly noted.”

There are still a couple of hours left before the call to quarters. Most of the regimen is making use of that time in the mess hall, where they can relax around good company and pretend the days aren’t limited. 

The main building is still operating. Light pours out of certain windows on the second floor, the officers occupying those rooms still busy with work. Erwin Smith is more than likely among those people. 

You’re unable to guess how he might respond to your predicament. His straightforward no-nonsense character is not to be mistaken with a blinded preference for rules and protocol, evident in his choice to skip the required three years of training when he plucked Levi out of the underground. If it was in Erwin's hands to expel you, he likely wouldn't go that far, but it's as Hange said—the choices you've taken are a violation of his trust as both his comrade and friend. 

You're in too deep now to hope for an easy way out. As long as Levi keeps improving, all should be fine. 

The third floor is typically used for storage. When you arrive through the stairs, only the first rows of torches are lit up, producing a gush of orange light that doesn't reach too far into the corridor. Levi is nowhere to be seen, though it's not like you thought he'd be present. There isn't a lot he can do besides breathe in dust. 

You continue going up the spiral staircase, reaching the archway at the end. Outside, the stone floor builds into crenelations on the perimeter of the balcony, which looks out over the ample terrain of the Scouting Legion's base. Further along your view, the open plains shift into a small forest. The road cutting through it links the distant town situated behind the hills. 

You think no one resides here at first, but with a step into the balcony, a figure in your peripheral vision grabs your attention.

Levi looks so small as he sits against the stone wall. One arm rests on a bent knee, the other leg tucked beneath it. Seeing him now, you understand why he relies on his intimidating persona so much. When he sheds all of that off, he embodies every crumb of imperfect emotion that relates to being human. 

“So here you are.”

Levi glances at you for only a moment before he returns his attention to the night sky. “I'm guessing they went mental and sent you to look for me.” By they, he must mean the leadership of the scouts. 

“Not really. I'm just here to check up on you.” You crouch down, propping one knee on the stone to balance your weight, and offer a teacup to him. “Hasn't been steeping for long. The flavor should remain intact.”

He eyes the tea without taking it, as if questioning its contents. When his gaze flits up at you, it's evident he's questioning you. “Are you pitying me?” Whereas any other time he would have barked those words at you, now he can't help but sound wounded. 

You chuckle. “It's just tea. What are you on about, Levi?” 

“I don't know. You're acting too soft.” Nevertheless, the arm resting on his knee lifts, fingers splaying around the rim of the cup to accept your gift. 

“It's called being nice, but sure.” You focus on the delicate hold of his hand as he sips the tea, attention then shifting to the sleeve of his jacket. A thought resurfaces. “Oh, I completely forgot about the salve I wanted to bring for your wrists. How is your skin?” 

He looks at you with a weak version of his habitual scowl. “Stop coddling me.”

You shrug and sample your own cup. In spite of losing track of the time for most of the process, the tea came out well. “Hey, I only wish someone would have cared enough to ask how I was back when something like that was done to me.” 

Your answer does its job of disarming him. 

“You were perf— good.” He clicks his tongue, as if reproaching his own mouth for running loose. “You didn't hurt me. It was fine, and I'm okay.” 

Before your legs can go numb, you take a seat beside him against the wall. “Well, that's good.” Your voice bounces into the cup, lips puckering to take another sip. “Though it seems that it didn't keep your mind quiet for long.” You direct your gaze to the twinkling sky.

An invitation has been laid out, one stating with its subtext that you're here to listen should he need it. 

He places the arm holding his cup back on his bent knee. “It'll pass.” As easy as that, he shuts you out. 

Respecting his decision doesn’t come easy to you. Even after all the time it has taken you to establish a bond, he's still adamant about talking his feelings out. You know that Levi relies on action more than he does on words. He might not find too much comfort in them. 

“Why?” he asks, following it with silence as if you were supposed to already know what he means by that. 

You give him all the time he needs to pick his statement back up. Neither of you exchange glances, opting instead for the view. 

“Why do you and Erwin insist so much?” 

Again, making you repeat yourself. It's like he refuses to believe you. 

“You have potential, Levi. A gift no other human possesses.”

“A gift,” he huffs, twisting the cup in his hold. “Sure.”

The sarcastic nature of his response makes you reconsider your choice of words. His abilities make his survival possible, easier to come by than for most, yet, briefly, you wonder if all of that advantage pays off in the end. Is surviving worthwhile when everyone else gets left behind? Is a lonely existence the only outcome waiting for him on the other side of this war? 

You sip your tea to fill the quiet pause. “I imagine it must feel like a burden sometimes.”

He shrugs. “I don't know. I just don't think about it.” 

So not even in the privacy of his head does he confront his issues. Everything is bottled up inside him. You wonder how his mind holds up. 

“You're saying I could lead some day,” he continues. “I think you're over your head. No one here trusts me.” 

“I trust you.” The revelation slips from your mouth in a nonchalant way, like it's no secret to either of you. 

“It sure looks that way. What's up with that?” 

You tame an incoming laugh so it stays quiet in your throat. “What do you mean? You earned it, of course.”

“If you say so.” He pauses to drink more tea, then adds, “I don't know what Erwin wants from me.”

“Your devotion.” You mimic his action, finishing what remains of the tea before the breeze makes it go cold. 

“Well, I'm sorry I can't devote myself to sacrificing people to the titans. If that's what leading means, I have no interest in trying.”

You hum, understanding where he's coming from. From an outsider's perspective, it must look as inhumane as he makes it sound. “I can't speak for everyone on this matter, but to me, being a good leader means aiming for the complete opposite. I choose to lead because I believe I'm the best chance they have of returning home.”

“You can't promise them they won't die.”

“I can't. Hearing me talk, anyone would say I'm being cocky or delusional, but every time we leave the walls, I have no choice but to trust my judgment and my experience, because if I didn't, if I didn't trust myself with their lives, then it'd be the same as sacrificing them to the titans.”

Your words would be better conveyed if only you forced yourself to look at him, but erasing that shred of distance left between you could make it easier for you to dismiss your role of superior. You don't have his talents when it comes to keeping a stone cold exterior. 

“I can't do it.” Levi's deep voice pulls you out of your head, and for a short second, you could have sworn he sounded terrified. “I can’t be put in charge of a group that is meant to die.” 

Suddenly, it sets in that you're both immersed in a world of what-if's, when in reality the prospect of leading is the furthest away from his present. Erwin would never place the lives of his soldiers in unprepared hands, and Levi is still unripe in that regard. 

“Levi.” You try to bring him back with a solid utterance of his name. “Nothing's going to happen. It's not as if we're giving you a time limit to be ready for this. It's not a requirement, okay? You can stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if you felt pressured.”

His shoulders drop with the quiet breath he lets out, empty cup suspended from his fingers. “Erwin's the one scheming shit. Not you.” 

“To be frank, I still think you could do it eventually.”

He sighs. “Why? Why would you put such faith in me? I don't get it. I've only ever been good for… for violence. I'm not a soldier. I'm not strong either. Not really. I killed Isabel and Furlan.”

The way he says it surprises you. His guilt has always been apparent, but you couldn't have imagined the extent of that feeling. 

You're the first to cave in, turning your head in his direction. The frown he aims at the floor resembles thin glass, looking like it’d be susceptible to even the gentlest of glances. His longer strands of hair have fallen in the way of his eyes, following the downward tilt of his head.

“You didn't kill them, Levi.”

“I did. My choices killed them. I killed them.”

Through careful prodding, it seems you've reached his soft center. This must be the root of Levi's torture and why he's struggling to move on. 

“You don't control the titans,” you say. “They killed your friends.”

“And they wouldn't have killed them if I'd been better.”

“That's the difference you're missing, Levi. Titans kill people, and those who fail to save a comrade are just weak. You didn't kill your friends, but you could have saved them. That's the truth, and the truth fucking hurts. So feel that pain and let it drive you. Be stronger, define your judgment, and along the way, you can stop more titans from killing people. That's your alternative.”

You give him some time to assimilate your words, adding to his privacy by glancing back at the sky. You recall your time on the streets as a child. If the world has beauty in sunsets and stars, you thought back then, maybe life isn’t destined to be hell all of the time. It offers a slight sense of hope.

“You remind me of Erwin,” he says. “Minus the irritating eloquence.”

You smile. “Maybe you'll finally listen if it's two of us saying this.”

He spends another moment solidifying his thoughts. “Fine,” he relents. “I'll give it a go, see if that'll make everyone stop looking at me like I'm just an underground thug.”

“It won't take them long to realize it, I'm sure.” You carefully set the cup beside you on the floor. “But just so you know, it's okay to grieve.”

He expels a quick breath through his nose. “You want me to cry in front of you now?” 

“If you want.”

“Not happening.”

You wonder if he has ever cried. Maybe back when he was still a child, but an inkling tells you the handkerchief he carries with him handles stains more than tears. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” A quick look at him confirms he isn't wearing his trademark garment. You reach inside your jacket and take out his cravat, passing gentle fingers along the smooth fabric to unfold it. “I promise it's washed and ironed to your ridiculous standards.”

Although his reaction is limited to glancing sideways, you notice a glint in his eyes when they find his cravat. “What are my standards?” The question entertains your brief moment of jest. 

“Scrubbing the thing like I'm trying to uncover a new shade of white.” You maneuver yourself on the balls of your feet to move closer. 

Levi reads your intentions and pulls his bent leg in so it joins his thigh, a small act that demonstrates you're welcomed into his space. “It's called thoroughly cleaning,” he continues the conversation, pretending your proximity doesn't make his breathing stall, “which I highly doubt you did.”

“Come on, it smells like fresh linen sheets.” Propping your weight on your knees, you present the cravat to him and let him judge for himself. 

He leans only the slightest inch forward. “Smells like you.”

You ignore the razor-sharp wings fluttering in your stomach. “Then I should hope that's not a problem.” 

“It's not,” he says, his voice soft. 

Your fingers brush the fabric, smoothing out nonexistent creases to distract your foggy mind. You meant it when you said it was ironed to perfection, and now it's playing against you. Time runs out when Levi flicks his eyes down, encouraging you to make a move. 

You have never put a cravat on, but you've pulled it loose from around his neck enough times to know how to tie it. You want to do it, and for the looks of it, Levi isn’t opposed to the idea. With his silent permission, you slip it across the back of his neck, noting that he isn’t wearing his usual button up.

“Black turtlenecks are a good look on you.”

He doesn’t dare to pry his eyes from the floor. “Bruises are too high. The cravat alone won't hide them.”

You forgot to consider that. Your mouth traveled as high as where his pulse is, right below his jawline, with an intent that promised those marks would last at least the entirety of the week. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“It's fine.”

You pull the end over the front loop, then run your fingers over the fabric to style it. Your gentle hands and attention to detail are stark opposites to the way you've yanked it out time and time again. Your gesture carries on the slowest it can possibly be, intent on keeping the physical contact going. 

You don’t realize how close he is until you start feeling his warm breaths on your face. It’s insane how easily he has been affecting you. Your heart can’t keep up, and it’s likely he has already caught on to its erratic sound. It would take a deaf person to miss it.

Seeing as you've run out of excuses to stay close, you retreat your hands. 

Except Levi catches them between his palms before they stray too far. You focus on the way he holds you, like you were made of cracked porcelain. Stalling with your eyes down buys you about a dozen seconds before you have no other choice but to surrender to his silver gaze. 

It burns through you, exposing a plethora of emotions you can't fully decipher. You didn't think it was possible to pine for someone that's already so close, but he's showing you a quiet and constricted version of such a look, like it's only through cracks that these fleeting intentions escape him. 

“I appreciate you.” His voice is deep and coarse, raw with the thoughts that have come to the surface. 

You almost forget how to speak. “I know that, Levi.”

Chapter Text

Your journey to the main building comes to a stop at the front doors as the sight of Mike with a couple of MPs grabs your attention. Although the blond mountain of a man towers over his audience by several inches, the men revel in the status their branch of the military gives them, holding their chins up in the air when addressing the section commander of the scouts. 

You're quick to conclude the sudden visit has everything to do with the delivery of cargo and not some plot to make the day difficult for the regiment. A horse attached to a wagon waits a short distance ahead, motionless as a trio of scouts unload the wooden craters. 

Although it's supposed to be a straightforward situation, you redirect your course to approach the scene just in case your comrade needs a hand. Generations of tension between both branches has made it so most, if not all, encounters result in badger from the MPs. 

“Good morning, men.” You turn to Mike and nod. “Section Commander. All good here?”

“Captain.” He returns the greeting, his tone habitually poised and low. “Yes, I'm revising stock numbers with our visitors.” It's in his eyes that he has read through your intentions and is appreciative of them. He sticks out a pointer finger over his shoulder, aiming it towards the wagon. “You got the keys to the storage room, correct? Our request for the two replacement gears was approved and they've just arrived.”

You understand what he means by that. “Sure thing. I'll handle it.”

The ODM gear cases wait for you in the wagon, their dimensions proportional to the size of the scabbards. You twist the lock on the first one and pop the lid open for a quick scan. 

A dented compartment hugs every piece. The pillowy texture of the inside was designed to cushion them from potential hazards during travels. Both pairs of scabbards lie horizontally on top of each other at the head of the case, blades sharing the same placement right below them. The hand grips and main unit have their own separate space on both sides of the back end. 

You carry the same inspection over to the second case, confirming that every piece is inside. 

The gear by itself challenges any user with its mass, so tucked inside a large suitcase, one for each hand, only adds to that burden. You walk to the shed, trying not to give in to the weight pulling at your arms lest you waddle the whole way there. 

The date of the next expedition is fast approaching. Erwin will be glad to know the replacements for the damaged gears have arrived before then. He was the most concerned about the commitment of the top brass to dispatch them in time.

The pressure is high to deliver with the next outing, and it has reached such an extent that Keith set up a meeting between officers to discuss a proper plan of action. The regiment was threatened with a decrease in funds should another expedition result in failure and the commander has been on edge about the news, struggling to keep his cool. More than usual, that is. 

The weight of one trunk is lifted off your grip without warning. Startled, you swirl around, fighting the heavy drag of the other case. 

Familiar eyes of silver color find you. 

“Levi.” It has been some time since you shared a personal interaction up close. Erwin made sure to keep him busy throughout the week, putting him to the test with different requests—or so you surmise. 

Either that or he's deliberately keeping you away from each other. 

Levi holds the case like it has the weight of a feather, beckoning to you for the other one. 

“Oh, there's no need—”

He reaches down and plucks it off your hand. “You were nearly wobbling.”

“It wasn't too bad.” Pride on the line, you are quick to look for a diversion. “I haven't seen you in a while.” 

“Erwin's been on my ass all week.” 

Turning away to resume your course, you fire out the title of “Section Commander” over your shoulder as a warning. “And mind your tongue.”

“Section Commander,” he grumbles under his breath while falling into step behind you. 

“Have you been cooperative at least?” 

“If by cooperative you mean behaving like his lap dog,” he huffs a quiet breath through his nose, “sure, I guess.” 

“I doubt it was that bad. Erwin's lax next to the commander's explosive nature. We're lucky to be in his section. He's the easiest leader to come by.” 

That isn't to say he's negligent or laid-back, but out of every other eccentric personality in the leadership ranks, he's the most grounded person the Survey Corps has. 

He's also the most perceptive one. You knew from the start that Erwin had every intention of eventually reclaiming Levi as his direct subordinate, but you have a nagging fear in the back of your mind that suggests maybe he already caught on and is pushing schedules to get him transferred back to him sooner. 

You enter the cabin and wait for your silent partner to step in before closing the door. “Levi, you have to be careful.” You speak quietly, taking advantage of the added privacy to broach the delicate subject. 

“I know.”

“No. I mean, Erwin is—you can't…”

Words. Actions. Behavior. Erwin's eyes can read everything, and for all you know, he could already be waiting for Levi to mess up. Any slip-up that will confirm his suspicions. 

“I've behaved, I promise you.” Levi situates the cases on a table, handling them like the prized possessions they are. “I won't drag your name through the mud,” he sees the need to clarify. 

His voice is honest and certain, the silver in his eyes matching those feelings as he stares the weight of his claim into you. 

Your worries ease, thoughts slowing down to a bearable pace. It should be okay. So long as Levi continues to show progress, the rest is just a means to an end, and years of working under Erwin have taught you he values results above all else. 

A quiet exhale finishes expelling the remaining tension out of your system. “That's good. So you've been a good boy, huh? All for me?” 

“Why else? You've knocked your lessons into me enough times already.”

“Indeed I have.” You head over to where he stands, pulling his eyes with you as you steadily approach. “You really did everything Erwin asked of you?” 

The honeyed alteration in your voice tempts his curiosity. He doesn't budge from his spot, gaze open and intent. “Yes.” 

“You were a worthy scout?” 

“Yes.”

“Was he pleased?”

“I guess.” 

“I haven't been called once by anyone since the last incident, so I know I'm pleased.” You also missed him, evident as you reach out to settle your hand on his chest, craving for a touch that will link you to your soldier. “I ought to give you a reward for being a good boy.”

A spark of interest flashes in his vehement stare. “Do I get to choose?”

You quirk a brow, traces of amusement curling your lips. “Oh, that's new. Eager for something in particular?” 

His open disposition falters, and he tucks away the thoughts you might have been able to read had they lingered on his face if only a little longer. “It's not—not a big deal. I'm thinking it wouldn't be bad if I returned the favor for once.” 

You lean your hip on the table, arms crossing over your chest. “I told you to not feel pressured.”

“I'm not,” goes back to being a monotone reply. 

You search for even the slightest display of doubt. He looks nervous, but that isn't a reliable indicator. It's a tempting offer, you won't deny, as long as he's certain of his limits. 

“I suppose you could use the practice,” you say. “You haven't really used your fingers much, hm?” 

He shifts his weight to one leg, then the other. He's stalling, and his movements lack the certainty he usually carries with him. “Actually.” He speaks like his voice is stuck in his throat, words slithering through barely-parted lips. “I was thinking about using my mouth.”

You blink. His words sink in as the seconds pass. Out of every possible request, you didn't think it would result in this. “You said you wouldn't. Ever.”

“I'm allowed to change my mind,” he says. 

“That's funny.”

“What?” 

“Your opinion changed only after I had you in my mouth for the first time.” Hence, your point. Some sick feeling of duty must be forcing him, and you don't care for charity work.

He doesn't see it the same way you do. “So? Is it so bad I want to be considerate?” 

You'd be flattered if it didn't seem like he had to talk himself into it for your sake. “It's messy stuff,” you remind him.

“I've handled worse.”

“It's just—it's a lot that's new.”

“I'll manage.”

“And the smell of sex…” you continue, looking less assured by the second. 

“It's not terrible.”

“It isn't supposed to taste—well, it isn't a normal taste.”

“You've forced it down before.”

You have to hold your lips together so your jaw doesn't slack. 'Forced it down' is a whopping overstretch. You didn't even struggle. You wanted to swallow it because he's him. 

Needless to say, you've made up your mind. “No.”

It catches him off guard. “No?”

“Denied.”

“Again, you're not forcing me to do anything—”

“I'm the one who doesn't want it, so settle for tea if you still want a reward.” Your response is spiteful, and through cracks, the resentment in your heart leaks.

Levi watches you, hunting for the trace of a lie or a joke, but your solid expression blocks him out. 

He only shows the slight drop of his shoulders. “Very well.”

You dismiss him after that, sending him back to his duties with Erwin. 

It's fine that he cared. Not many men show the same consideration, much less for someone who isn't a romantic partner, but you have feelings that, for the looks of it, are very tender, and his answers hurt you; they hurt your pride and your self-esteem. You won't bare yourself to Levi if he doesn't desire you as you desire him. It'd be far easier to feel conscious in such a compromising position. 

You know how difficult it is, especially for one as closed-off as Levi, which is why you made sure to be gentle, to reassure him every step of the way. It's common knowledge by now that talking doesn't come as naturally to him as his skills with a blade, and sure, maybe it's your job to reassure the virgin, but Levi brings the weakest parts of you to the surface. You need reassurance too sometimes. 

You suppose that's what holding affection for someone entails. 

The silence in your office proves to be detrimental to your concentration, just about setting the stage for your mind to overthink. Your workload stares back at you, neglected by the hand that rests on top without so much as trying to make a dot with the pen between your fingers. 

Damn him, you think. He has ensured his stay in your mind. Rent-free and without permission. At a time when you're upset at him, no less. If he went through the trouble of bringing up the suggestion of his own volition, the least he could have done was disguise his answers a little better—not be so blatant about the effort he was putting to make the offer. His fingers would have been fine. Anything he actually enjoys would have been fine. 

Your thighs press together. You can't believe you're wet between your legs. 

It was an enticing proposal despite the circumstances. Seldom are the times you've felt his unabashed lips on your body, but you can recall the tingles he has always left behind. 

You wonder how the feeling would differ when pressed against the most sensitive parts of you. You wonder if looking down at him would be enough to make you come undone on the spot. Even visualizing how he might look is making you squirm in your chair—all needy with his furrowed brows and piercing eyes, hair messy from having your fingers tangled through his dark locks.

Unless he doesn't like the sight and doesn't stand the taste or the mess or the whole situation and wants to bolt out the door the second he's done. 

And you know well what such a thing is. It's messy, it's dirty and it's intimate. One usually wouldn't do it for just anyone. In your case, you have not only your attraction, but your feelings as well; you are content just hearing him moan, watching him enjoy it and tasting something that's purely Levi. 

If he doesn't see any of that like you do, then the task turns into a chore. 

After all this time, it's silly that you would doubt his attraction for you, but neither has he been explicit about the extent of it. 

Your thoughts are spinning in circles. This is ridiculous. 

By the time the clock marks the end of your work shift, you leave your paperwork behind in favor of making it back to your quarters for a quick break before the meeting starts. 

You wish you could explain why you're so intent on showering when you already told Levi no and he isn't even one to insist. Nothing about the way your brain is working makes sense. 

You debate between shaving and trimming down, debate between the two scented soaps at your disposal; you overthink your choice of undergarment and then when you're checking yourself in the mirror, you overthink the shape of your body—all of this while cursing and hissing the name of the one man that trapped you in this dilema. 

The meeting doesn't help you with your concentration either. 

“I'll allow myself to be blunt,” Keith begins. “The Scouting Legion has run out of chances to fail. We've managed to stall the parliament's decision for as long as we have, but now they're demanding results. The upcoming expedition will determine our future funds.”

It carries on the same as always. The commander drags it on to save face before passing the torch over to Erwin for the strategic portion of the meeting. 

The aspired goal is to cover new territory, establish a successful base and return home with little to no casualties. They'll be stretching the usual length of the expedition by a couple of days to aim for a better success rate. An uphill battle, per Erwin's words, but not impossible. Already a far cry from the commander's demoralizing introduction. 

The focus tends to go to the protection of the wagons. For this expedition, Erwin says half of that manpower will be sent to the front lines for enemy detection, where he'll station only the most capable teams—yours among them.

When an officer catches Erwin in a one-on-one discussion about a personal matter, a window is opened for your mind to drift off once again with thoughts of Levi. 

Where is he now? Maybe you'll find him somewhere in the building if the meeting doesn't drag on for too long. 

Find him for what, though? You already made your intentions clear. Coming up to him with anything that opposes it will only make you look desperate. 

In essence, you are. But he's not supposed to know that. 

You shake your head. 

“You disagree, Captain?” Erwin's tone pulls you back to the conversation. “I'm open to suggestions.”

“Eh, no,” you shoot out, quickly exhaling to recover your composure. “No, sir. I was analyzing some positions in my head for my squad. Please continue.”

“I'll be taking charge in that department as well, but we can discuss them at a later date together.” 

The exchange reaches its conclusion an hour later, ending with an order from Keith to turn over the paperwork he requested. A job that you haven't finished. 

He sends you away with a scolding and tells you to have them ready by tomorrow morning. 

You leave the room, crossing hallways on your way to the second floor while the others retire for the day. Despite the inconvenience, a deadline might aid in pulling your concentration together. 

At the end of the stairs, your heart leaps into your throat when you lay eyes on Levi, who's leaning against the wall beside your office door like a guard. His arms are crossed, face tipped down, and he appears to be lost in thought, concentration breaking once you walk into his peripheral vision. 

Your mind can't seem to settle between being annoyed or delighted about his surprise appearance, so it concocts a strange blend of both, which you have no doubt looks just as confusing on your face. 

Before you can appease your eager curiosity, Levi takes the word first. 

“Am I on your team?” 

You blink, caught off guard, and your step halts about an arm's length away from him, maintaining a formal distance between you. Your silence makes it clear that you aren't on the same line of thinking as him. 

“For the expedition,” he elaborates. 

“Yeah?” 

Something in your answer doesn't satisfy him. He uncrosses his arms and leans away from the wall, losing the casual nature of his stance to one of unease. “Do you know or do you not know?” he insists, becoming impatient by the second.

You weren't expecting him to have knowledge of the scheduled meeting to begin with, yet he went out of his way to stand outside your office door and wait for you. Evidently, he has concerns about it. “The subject of teams wasn't touched, but I imagined your position in my squad was a given. Why are you bringing this up?” 

“Erwin—Section Commander Erwin,” he corrects, “implied some things earlier.”

The sole mention of his name is enough to make you wary. “What things?” 

“He suggested my talents would be better used at the center rear of the formation with Section Commander Mike's squad.” 

It's as you feared. He's already suspecting. Unless Erwin has a specific objective for Levi in mind that relates to the expedition, his true intention is to separate the prodigy soldier from distractions. Erwin would have run his plan by you if the circumstances were still normal. 

“Where will you be stationed?” he asks. 

You do your best to keep your worried thoughts from spilling through your voice. “Vanguard. Enemy detection line.”

He huffs. “Like hell you'll be there of all places without me.” 

A light frown twists your face. “That isn't something you get to decide, Levi.” 

“I already did. You're my supervisor. It's only logical I go with your squad. If no changes made it to the final draft of the plan, then I trust Section Commander Erwin understood as much.”

Personal feelings don’t hold any weight in this situation. It seems you’re not the only one who has been struggling to remember that. His defiance goes against everything you've been trying to teach him—everything you're expected to be teaching him. Erwin will not turn a blind eye to it. 

“First of all,” you say, adjusting your tone so it embodies the title you're meant to assume. “Not only is he our section commander, he's the mastermind behind this new formation we're trying, which means that when it comes to pieces that play a part in it, he knows best. As for my second point, I didn't think I would need to remind you that what we do in private is a completely separate matter from the jobs we’re each expected to do. Erwin is an incredibly perceptive man and your attitude has put us both on the spot.” 

Levi doesn’t give you a reaction that could indicate he’s on the same page as you. His concerns are elsewhere, and they have nothing to do with any of the points you brought up. You can’t believe he would rather waste time and energy on something as futile as worrying about his place on the formation like you haven't already gone on numerous expeditions without him. It’s a little insulting, actually. 

“If I remember correctly, trust and companionship are essential for this formation to work. I think that's what you taught me, Captain.” He speaks without a trace of doubt in his diction, and although his approach as your subordinate could be tamer, he's still mindful about respecting the boundaries of your established roles. “We trust each other. I've worked with your team before, and they don't despise me. At least I don't think so. Taking all of that into account, conditions will be more optimal if I work with you than with a squad that doesn't trust me. Erwin had nothing to say against that.”

A sigh parts your lips. “I know, Levi, but our situation is different.” You modulate the volume of your voice to keep the private exchange between you, stepping up to the door and then unlocking it. 

Levi follows your initiative and adjusts his tone as well, but the certainty of his claims remains. “It is different, and that is why I trust you. If I'm going to lend my strength to someone, it should be you who has it.”

You walk into your office, then wait for your partner to follow before closing the door. “Levi, you work for the cause. Not me.” 

“I don't care about the cause. You're not dying out there.” He stays by the entrance, his arms crossed again, watching in place as you head over to your desk. 

A sense of dread claws into your stomach and settles there, carving a bottomless pit inside. Being loyal to you isn't the same as being loyal to the scouts—those were Hange's words, and only now has the gravity of the situation begun to feel real. You're sullying Levi's resolve. 

“I'm not going to die,” you grumble, “or did you forget I've been doing this for longer than you have? I'm not at your level, but I'm definitely strong. Have some damn faith.”

“Whether you're strong or not isn't the issue. Death doesn't discriminate. Your chances of dying are the same.”

You lean against your desk, arms bent across your chest. Your patience is waning. It's like talking to a wall. “Actually, whether I die or not isn't the issue either. You have a duty. A duty bigger than all of us. Bigger than my life. I'm just another disposable piece in this war. You, on the other hand—” 

Anger flashes through his eyes, sharpening them into a glare that could cut through steel. The words that shoot out of his downturned mouth are a hissed, “Shut up. Stop. You don't have the right to say that. Why try so hard to see through me if you're just going to leave in the end too?” The worst of his feelings escapes him in a blast that leaves a much weakened version of him in the aftermath of it. His real emotions shine through torn seams, traces of hurt and fear embroidered into a glass-like expression that fails to pass for a frown. 

The sight of his exposure tears down your walls. You're reminded of the demons he constantly battles. His worries are founded in trauma, and you’re their recipient as the only one permitted around them per your insistence to understand him better.

It's only fair you show a gentler side whenever they come to the surface. 

“Levi, people will continue to die in this line of work. That doesn't mean you should cut contact with everyone around you.”

“I'm not exposing myself to the consequences of that again.”

You remain quiet after that, not in lack of thought, but because what you wish to say and what you should say are complete opposites. You believed you could go from companion to captain at the flip of a switch, but changing roles isn't coming easy to you anymore, especially when such a thing means turning your back on the vulnerable side of him. You can't ignore something so precious to you; you can't pretend it doesn't pull at your heartstrings. Any look that doesn't show how much you care would cease to be yours. 

You're expected to be tough on him. Grow the hell up, you should tell him. Have you forgotten who I am?  

“I'm not going to die, Levi.” Spoken with your heart on your sleeve, it's like you were consoling a lonely child on the streets. 

“I'll make sure it doesn't come to that.”

It's so bittersweet. Every inch of you wants to accept the manifestation of his feelings, but you can't satisfy your selfish desire without the constant reminder of Hange's words in your head. His loyalty has been misplaced, and you hate that it makes your heart flutter when you should be worried about rearranging it. 

“Levi, you can't—” 

“I won't lend my help to a regiment that convinces its soldiers they're disposable pawns. You're not a pawn. No one who dies for this shitty cause is. Maybe Keith and Erwin think that way, but I don't.” His words carry the weight of fierce conviction, and they lack devotion for the Scouting Legion. Clearly, you haven't done your assignment right. 

Still, he makes a fair point. Your comrades have infinite value and that fact is undebatable. You said the wrong thing in a desperate attempt to shift his attention away from you, but you, of course, understand the sacrifice it takes to be here. No one joins the scouts to die for nothing.  

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I didn't express myself the right way. Every human life is valuable, every sacrifice matters, and Erwin knows that too. His work is proof of that.” 

Levi huffs through his nose, shoulders bouncing as a result. “Then he should recognize the extent of your value and be damn grateful I'm so hell-bent on making sure you don't die.”

You roll your eyes. “Stubborn man. God, you're impossible.” 

Erwin isn't heartless. As with any leader in a war, he's sometimes subjected to difficult choices, but he doesn't toss human life away like breadcrumbs into a lake. You trust him, and you need Levi to trust him as well. 

There's too much to think about, too much to correct, a lot that's at stake. You didn't think the consequences would catch up to you so fast. 

“And to think I was expecting you to whore yourself out to me,” you say. “Instead, you come here to predict my possible death. Good grief.”

His eyes offer a couple of blinks at you, showing the confusion he won't allow into his face. “Your answer was no.” 

“Damn straight I answered no.” 

Doesn't he get it? You can't be comfortable wanting it if the sentiment doesn't go both ways, and as things stand, he hasn't given you enough proof. 

Indeed, he doesn't get it. “That is all I needed to say tonight then.” His eyes stray for the door as if to prove a point. 

“You know what, Levi? Honestly? Fuck you.”

“Now what?” He has the nerve to sound annoyed, like it was you who waited by his door to disturb his peaceful night and not the other way around. 

The need and your emotions and him are all festering into a catastrophic rush of insanity. You don't know what you wanted to prove by submitting yourself to today's torment. That you have some semblance of self-control? That you can stop thinking about him at will? Well, you failed—fully, miserably and stupidly failed. 

Your thoughts spill into the open without control. “Quit being goddamn annoying. You think you're so endearing, huh? Well, fuck you. You ruined my entire day. Here I am, trying to get through my job, and you come up with this kind of crap. Now I've been thinking about it and your stupid fucking face when I should have been working. I've been thinking about dumb shit like what kind of scented soap to use— God, this is fucking ridiculous. Then you come to my office and disturb my night, and the worst part about it is you probably don't even realize all the damage you cause. Damn you.”

Though Levi is attentive and respectful in his silence, the jerk of his brow on his otherwise stable frown shapes that classic look that, in spite of showing traces of real confusion, makes you, as the one on the receiving end of it, feel like a damn idiot. 

Honestly, maybe you are. 

“I don't get it,” he says, and it doesn't help that he sounds just as aloof. “Why would you say no if you've been thinking so much about it?”

“I didn't want to think about it so much, you damn fool.”

“And I'm goddamn annoying?” 

Your glare narrows. “You are. You really are.”

With the way he looks at you —long and wordless— one would think you're speaking to him in tongues. A pause expands as he watches you, perhaps trying to make sense of your behavior. 

You move around your desk, opening drawers and tossing random items inside to keep your hands busy. Your actions are rough and laced with irritation. 

He gives up. “Why are you being difficult? You don't even have to beg. I was just going to give it to you if you said yes.”

You think a rock hits the bottom of your stomach when you swallow, the saliva so thick it pops in your throat. “Damn you. This is fucking coercion.”

“Now you're being ridiculous. Do you want it or not?” He makes it sound like it's a damn transaction.

You slam another drawer shut. “Yes, fuck you.” 

The adult in you wants to coil into herself, fully rejecting this side of you, which you can no longer control. You know he's right in saying you're being ridiculous, but feelings aren't supposed to make sense. 

Levi watches you, mouth slightly ajar. Confusion washes away his frown, leaving on his face a neutral look that spells the same emptiness he seems to have in his mind. 

“I'm going to pretend I understand you,” is what he settles on. 

You can't believe you like him. Why do you like him? The effort and energy it consumes would make some semblance of logic if you were after a smooth-talking, prince-like gallant. Yet here you are, losing your sanity over a grouchy, dense and cynical man. 

Levi gauges your reaction, trying to read the mood. “Can I walk closer then or what?” 

Your feet are fixed in place beside the chair, arms crossed over your chest. A sigh escapes you. “You suck at this.”

“I tried earlier and you turned me down.”

You groan. “Of course I was gonna say no when the first thing you told me was that you didn't like using your mouth. It makes me think you feel indebted to me.”

“I don't.”

That's the best he can come up with to reassure you? This man…

“I sucked you off last week and suddenly your perspective changes.”

“We've done a lot of things I thought would disgust me and they haven't. That's how I know I won't struggle through this either. Just stop overthinking already.” 

It's not enough. Not once has Levi hinted he might like it for himself. You aren't interested in having him between your legs if he's just going to soldier on for you. 

Your scowl must be showing a slice of your worries to Levi, who drops his shoulders with a quiet exhale, a sign that he's giving in. 

“Tell me what you want me to say.” 

You huff. “If it wouldn't kill you to be a little more blatant about the things you mean so I don't have to overthink. 'I won't hate it', 'It won't be too bad', 'I think I won't struggle'. With the way you express yourself, it's like you're trying to convince me you'll tolerate it for my sake.”

It's scattered on his face that your words have finally clicked, which is how you realize it's your fault too for dancing around the subject instead of giving Levi the precision he needs in his answers. 

Everything about this is so silly. 

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'm not so good with words.”

“Evidently.” You glare in his direction, though rather than keeping it razor-sharp, you only manage to tut like a child. Your body is static as he approaches, betraying the rejection you're intent on faking. 

“I do want it.” He's by you in a heartbeat, keeping his arms beside him as if he has to mentally strap them so he doesn’t reach for you at the first possible moment. “It's been on my mind for some time now. I just didn't want to sound as desperate as I've been feeling.” 

Your expression resets and the tension across your body shoots down between your legs. Levi takes the sight of your open stance as permission to hold the side of your face in his warm hand. The touch shies away from your cheek, resting instead over your ear as if that might make it less intimate. 

He leans closer and traps your face between his hand on one end and his mouth on the other; it traces along your temple, lips brushing your hairline as he journeys behind your ear. 

Your nails pierce into your palms with the strength of your grip. You curse your skin for being covered in goosebumps that give you away.

“I do want my mouth on your cunt.” Levi's voice rumbles next to your ear, deep and honest about his desire. Your knees almost buckle. “Please. I'll be good to you.”

Shit. If Levi was a bidder, you would have auctioned yourself off and every belonging in your possession right then and there. 

“Yes?” He searches for confirmation.

You hope to God nothing quakes when you answer, “Yes.” 

The hand on your face drags down, heavy and searing along your nape as it moves to the neck of your jacket. Levi helps you out of the garment, operating with such slow intensity even the brush of the fabric makes your skin tingle. He pulls it down your arms and leaves it hanging on the chair. 

The look of his sharp eyes when he turns his face back to you rolls like fire into your gut. Your mind is foggy with lust and expectation, wanting nothing more than to be lifted into heights you've never explored. 

Yet it's impossible to pretend you're not incredibly nervous. The questions from before resurface. Will he like what he sees? Does he prefer you clean or trimmed down? What if he doesn't stand the taste and is forced to pretend? 

You're not so sure about anything anymore. 

The butterflies in your stomach are trying to make you throw up. Is this how he felt when you got him in your mouth? You're inclined to apologize for your lack of consideration. This is torture. 

At the touch of his lips, it all seems to dissipate. Your brain lets go of the thoughts plaguing you to focus on the careful way in which he worships your skin. Hot lips trail down from your ear, following the line of your jaw. 

Your breathing hastens. You can tell there's deep forethought behind every chosen move.

Past his shoulder, you catch sight of the door. Is it locked? You can't remember, and you don't think you care right now either. Did you have paperwork to finish? You can't remember that either. 

His touch is all you can register. His hands scald you through your clothes as he grabs your waist. His lips move down and zap you over your pulse point. 

You don't recognize the sound that leaves you. 

“So you like it here too,” he hums, enticed like he has discovered new treasure. “I didn't consider it before. I'm sorry.”

“You—” Your mind is disconnected from your throat, voice failing to come out. You anchor yourself with a grip on his shirt. “Damn… idiot.”

Levi takes his mouth on an exploration, hunting for the spots that'll make you react the most. His intentions are always easy to read. They tend to copy the skeleton of your work, after all. 

A specific section on your neck makes you tumble forward. His arms slither around you to aid in the support, and it feels like he's hugging you. He searches for more skin to please, always passing by that one point in your neck he's conditioned himself to never forget. 

Then he discovers another spot. 

You feel the results of his mouth there and between your thighs, and it’s like a compressed spear of pleasure shoots down without detonating upon impact. 

You don't think your legs are going to function anymore. 

Levi sees this and bends down a little, just enough to grab your ass and scoop you up in his arms. You comply with his invitation and wrap your limbs around him, leaving the floor for his sturdy frame. 

He carries you to your desk like you were made of paper and air, keeping himself entertained with his mouth on your neck. Such is his strength he's not even tightening his core. You could stay like this while he does his chores and he might even forget you after a while. 

He would have no problem fucking you into a wall—dear God.

You're placed on the side of your desk, right at the edge, while Levi continues to worship your neck. His hands begin to pull the buttons of your shirt apart. 

You only hear your breaths and the light smacks of his lips. It's so quiet. Usually, you're the one filling the silence or making him talk, but there’s nothing. Not a thought or order to give. 

He kisses down your throat, passing by your collarbone as he chases the direction of his hands. After he's done with your shirt, warm fingers spread your thighs open to make room for himself between them. 

You're not prepared to feel his erection against you. A gasp escapes you into the air you share, mixing in with his low groan. Your thighs lock around him on pure instinct, and he has to slither a hand between your bodies to press his couple of fingers in. You feel him over your slick; over your underwear and the inseam of your trousers, the pleasure striking you like lightning.

The most unstable breath you have ever heard from him slithers through his lips. “I've ruined your pants. You're so wet already.”

Your tongue stays useless in your mouth. 

He pulls at your shirt. You help him shrug it off your shoulders and down your arms, watching as he leaves it on the chair next to your jacket. Your body is burning, lathered with sweat everywhere, so the lack of fabric is more than welcomed. 

He opens his lips around the topmost part of your mound and suckles, palms slithering up the sides of your body for the hem of your sports bra. You're forced to loosen the hold your thighs have on him so he has enough room to pull the garment over your head. 

When his eyes latch to the sight of your bare breasts, it's like he's so enthralled anyone could barge in and that still wouldn't disrupt his concentration. He moves in for them, hand tossing your sports bra towards the chair. You catch from the corner of your sight that he misses his target and it falls to the floor. 

Neither of you care. His attention is on your nipple; yours is on the tongue that licks it. Your legs tug at him from the waist, but he needs the distance between you in order to keep reaching for your breasts.  

A frantic beat fills your ears. It hits faster than the speed of your breaths or your heart. You realize soon after that you're drumming the wooden surface with your fingers, so you stop, opting for a tight grip around the edge of the desk. 

Does he have any clue of how nervous you are? 

While his hot mouth closes around your other mound, you marvel at the aftermath of red bruises he left behind. The residues of saliva give your skin an enriching glow. 

A low moan tumbles around in your throat when he sucks your other nipple. One of your hands plucks itself off the desk to clamp all five fingers on the sturdy muscle of his bicep. You thought you had a good grasp of his body, but it's as if your mind has forgotten what he's supposed to feel like and is urging you to relearn it. 

He reaches for your belt buckle, forced to take his attention away from your breast to focus on getting it off. He's panting quietly, pouring warm breaths into the little space between you. Even his eyes stay on the task, and without any stimulation to distract your mind, the stress bubbles up in your chest again. 

“Talk,” you blurt out without thinking. 

He makes a hum that asks what you mean. The belt comes off, and now he's handling your waist skirt. 

“Just talk—I don't know. It's too quiet for my liking. Say whatever.”

You feel so silly.

The strain of coming up with anything to say takes enough of his attention that his hands stop dead in their tracks. Maybe you should have expected as much. 

“I've been thinking about this too,” he says through the breaths that escape him. “All day.”

“Yeah?”

He resumes his handiwork. “Overthinking, actually. I thought you said no because of my inexperience.”

“No such thing.” 

The waist skirt comes off and your heart flips. An urge would have made you snap your legs shut had Levi not been standing between them. You end up squeezing his waist. 

“This is kind of nerve-wracking if I'm honest.” You wish you could control your mouth better. 

“Just sit there and look pretty. I'm the nervous one here.” He meets your eyes for a brief moment, and the fervent glint in his pupils twists your insides. “If there's anything you don't like, you have to tell me. I'll fix it.”

Scared to say anything else, you nod your head. 

His eyes flit down as if he's equally anxious about holding your gaze for too long. “Is it okay if you lie down?” 

You do as he suggests. The hard surface touches your back, wood cold against your skin. “The couch might have been a better option.”

“If there's a mess, it'll be easier to clean the desk than the couch.”

A breathy laugh escapes you in spite of rolling your eyes. “Of course you would say that.”

“I'm saving us both the hassle.” He steps back to lift one of your legs, grip sturdy on the back of your thigh, where it burns through your clothes like his skin is ablaze. 

The position makes you feel more vulnerable. You're splayed on the desk, half naked, gazing up at Levi while he removes your clothing. You don't know if the mess between your legs looks as bad as it feels, but whatever the view, Levi is witnessing it from a front row seat. 

He leaves your boots and socks on the floor. “Do you still want me to say something? I'm not so creative with dirty talk.”

He struggles with your request like he has nothing else to say, and you almost believe him, but then you catch his eyes darting over your naked torso, spilling quiet thoughts through an eager look that you want to hear. 

“What's on your mind right now?” 

He may as well be staring physical heat into your body, dilated pupils raking your skin with their fervent edge. “Am I insane for thinking those marks look good on you?” 

You glance at your breasts for a moment. The skin tissue is dotted with several maroon bruises of varying sizes and shades. You have never felt more owned, and you fucking love it. “I think they look good on me too. Give me more.”

He obeys like he's been programmed with the order. His lips close around a patch of skin on your abdomen, teeth coming out to help with the installment of a darker bruise. You revel in the heat of his mouth, the tickle of his lashes and the callused hand he positions on your thigh. 

His tongue licks down and chooses a spot next to your belly button. The closer he gets to your center, the more sensitive you become, and the harder it is to keep yourself from squirming. 

Just above the waistline of your trousers, he creates another bruise. Your hips jerk, starving for friction, and you have to squash down a whine. 

The sound of the zipper sliding down inspires another current of razor-sharp wings in your stomach. Your grip is tight on both sides of the desk, hips lifting to help him ease them off your legs. 

He only sacrifices a second of his attention to target the chair and leave your pants there. Immediately after, like you'll disappear if he looks away for too long, he flits his pupils back towards his treasure. Your leg is grabbed from the calf and placed on his shoulder. 

You suck in a breath. “Levi,” rushes out before your head can form a reason as to why. Now he's watching, eyes glinting under the light of the torch on the wall, and you have nothing to say. “I… are you sure you're up for it?” 

“I'm sure.” 

You swallow. “Okay.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” It's a strange feeling. You've been waiting for it all day, and you know that if he were to stop right now and walk out, you'd be terribly disappointed, but while he's here, while it's happening, you stall for every available second. You're nervous because it matters to you that much. “Yeah,” you repeat. 

“Relax.” His hand squeezes your thigh to reassure you. “It's my turn to take care of you.”

Your heart swells. “Okay.”

His mouth starts on your knee, placing a chaste kiss there. You have to clamp down on your lower lip to chuck an embarrassing whimper back inside your throat. He's not looking at you, and you thank the walls he isn't. You wouldn't know what to do with his eyes on your pitiful face. 

He licks down to the meat of your thigh, leaving a wet trail behind his scalding tongue. You throw your arms above you and grip the other end of the desk to anchor yourself as your back arches. He digs his teeth into your skin and sucks with the intent of leaving yet another mark. 

On impulse, your free leg bends at the knee, foot perching on the surface of the desk. It catches his attention, reminding him of the limb he has neglected, so he pulls it up to bring it over his other shoulder. 

The only layer standing between you and total exposure is your underwear. It's even more nerve-wracking to know he's still fully dressed and somewhat in control while you're barely holding on to sanity. 

He gives himself a moment to lavish your other leg, starting with the placement of his lips on your knee and trailing down from there. 

Your heart is racing like it wants to kill you. Your lungs work faster than you can handle them. Your hole is dripping. You can feel your wet underwear sticking to your cunt. 

“Levi—” 

He kneels down on the floor. 

Holy shit. His face hovers over your cunt like a sun kissing the horizon. If you focus on his eyes, you'll lose it, so it's easier to loll your head away. 

His mouth travels further down. One mark here. Another one there. Before you know it, he's sucking the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. 

You pinch your lips, brows tugging hard into your lidded eyes. God, he's so close. It's almost like he's waiting for you to beg him for it. Foreplay has never felt like this in anyone else's hands—equal parts torturous and amazing. Levi is casting magic on you. 

“You smell so good.” His voice is a deep rumble. He nudges your thigh with the side of his face in what feels like a tender gesture. 

Your muscles ease up a little. You didn't realize how worried you were about it until Levi tackled the insecurity. 

His warm breaths blow over your folds. Without needing to look, you know he's near. Your abdomen burns from having it sucked in. It's as if you've spent the entire evening doing planks. Every drop of tension and excitement sinks into the lowest point in your stomach, concentrating into a ball that will spread out at the slightest touch—the right touch. 

Then his mouth kisses you through the wet fabric of your panties and your own body ceases to be yours. 

An open-mouthed whine catapults into the ceiling from your mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Your name comes out mellow and broken, moaned into your folds. He presses in and drags his tongue between your lips, heading for the little bud at the top. 

You can't take it with grace. It's just impossible. When your thighs squeeze him, he groans in bliss, which in turn makes your heart lurch into your throat. Your mouth falls open, more choked-up sounds spilling through it. 

His lips closing around your clitoris has got to be the best fucking feeling the world. Pleasure jams you in the stomach, urging your pelvis up, but his grip on your thighs keeps you firm against the desk. The lid of the pot was lifted the moment he touched your cunt and now the boiling water is overflowing. 

He suckles, squeezing every drop of feeling from your throbbing clitoris, and your body flinches again. The flames licking pleasure into your core evolve into a conflagration that spreads to every finger and toe in your lust-ridden body. 

You already want to cum. And as things stand, you will not last long. He hasn't even removed your underwear yet. 

“Levi—oh, fuck. Levi, God.” You toss your arm around, uncaring if it knocks something off the table. “Fuck me.”

He hooks a finger on the crotch of your underwear and pulls it aside. Your clitoris touches the crisp night air for only a second before it's swallowed into the velvet heat of his mouth. 

Sparks flash behind your eyelids, brain foggy and melting with blissful stimulation. Your entire body throbs, especially where he's sucking. You didn't think the sensations could get any more intense, but then he moans, and it's like the sound thrusts up into your cunt. Sadly, your walls clamp around nothing.  

You're crying gibberish to the thin air, rolling against his mouth and careening into oblivion. 

It's impossible to not whine upon loss of contact. He steals himself from your cunt so suddenly that it mirrors the effect of ripping something off you. Your thighs are guided off his shoulders and left to hang from the edge of the desk. 

You snap your head up. “Levi?” Your eyes are wide, unable to form a frown. 

You aren't prepared for what you see. You could have been warned about it years in advance and you would never be prepared. The fire in Levi's gaze consumes you. It's intent, starving, worshiping the sight of you and kissing the ground you walk on, the very definition of fucking you with his eyes, and your walls swell like he was, desperately sucking in search of something. Anything that will fill them. 

That sheer intensity passes on to the way he licks your wetness off his lips, and suddenly, there's nothing else you could want in this world as much as you want to cum your brains out all over his precious mouth. 

He rises to his feet, his crotch straining hard against his pants. His chest struggles with the air that seeps in and out of him in abnormally fast strides. “I'm going to take them off,” he pants, and you're sure that, as you are right now, even his voice in your ear would be enough to make you burst. He could talk about the most random shit and you'd still come. 

Your head gives out on the surface of the desk. “Hurry. Just hurry.”

His fingers are like little flames nipping the sides of your waist as they hook on your underwear and slide it down. The sopping fabric that hugs your cunt is forced off with one pull, revealing the mess you feel dripping down to your ass. 

He leaves your ruined underwear with the rest of your clothes and returns to his captain in a heartbeat. “Still good?” he checks in. 

“Yeah.” Though one would think you're dying with the way your voice shatters. 

He grabs one leg and positions it on his shoulder again. His other hand, rather than repeating those actions, reaches down with two fingers to slide them along your wet folds. 

You bend your back into a long arch, curses spilling into the air. Your thighs are quaking. 

“Shit,” slithers out of him with the puff of a breath. “Just fucking look at you. What the hell?” 

Your cunt responds to the sound of his wanton voice, and then it responds with double the intensity when his thumb presses down on your clitoris. You lock your free ankle behind him and haul him in, but he stops just shy of bucking into you, favoring his hand to do the job. 

His middle finger squelches through the slickness, teasing the rim of your hole. Hungrily, your thighs part for him, showing even more of you to the devoted eyes that have earned you. You're still pulsing, and it appears to enthrall him. His finger shies away the slightest inch so he can watch the view for a quick moment. 

It's how you come to realize your concerns from the entire day have only been the most trivial of thoughts. There isn't an inch of you Levi wouldn't take. You know that now for sure. 

He impales your hole and is achingly laggard in doing so, drawing out wet sounds on his way to getting his finger in knuckle-deep. Your walls suck him like he's the air you need to breathe. 

You want him. You really want him. He could be all over you, fucking you with three fingers, holding you so close, his mouth everywhere, and that still wouldn't be enough. Needless to say, your entire being aches from emptiness with only one finger in you. 

You want his mouth. You want his moans all over your cunt. You want his cock down your throat, but you also want it through your walls. God, you fucking need him. 

“Levi, Levi, Levi.” Your brain only knows the letters of his name. “Oh, fuck, Levi. God, Levi.”

He pants like he's agonizing, enjoying his own name in ways he likely didn't think he could. His finger pumps you, mouth falling on your stomach to worship it. His tongue burns new marks you pray will stay there for a long time. 

He skims below your belly button, white-hot yearning smacking you in the face. Your body has never felt more conflicted in its ache. He gives you wonderful stimulation, but only enough to keep you on the edge. His actions don't build an orgasm, and you're so desperate you're tempted to rub it out yourself. 

You won't, though. And he should know you won't. Your fingers could never compete. 

So you resort to begging. “Levi, please.”

“I'll give you anything.” His voice is broken, a mere ghost of itself.

“Your mouth. Right now.”

Levi yanks his finger out, and you watch him, your walls weeping, as he sucks the cum off. He doesn't make a scene. It comes naturally to him, like he only wants his finger to be clean so he can properly grab your thigh and place it on his shoulder. You can't explain how much it affects you. 

With both of your legs on either side of his head, he drops to his knees, soon after replacing his finger with his tongue. It's a different type of ecstasy. The muscle piercing you doesn't reach as deep, but it's wet, scorching and ravenous. His whole face buries into your cunt, nose nudging your bud of nerves as he licks and sucks. The mere idea of having Levi between your legs is enough to make you want to come undone. A single finger or three could never give you this much stimulation. 

He reaches up with one hand to lightly pinch your erect nipple, and you moan like he has thrust his cock into you. He's shooting sparks from his fingertips. You're so sensitive he could poke your forehead and it's possible you'd react the same way. 

His other hand worms between your legs to thumb your clitoris while his mouth works your sopping hole. A shock runs through your spine, reaching areas you didn't think could be stuffed with overwhelming pleasure. 

He's a part of you now, an extension of your body. Every ounce of exhilaration and pleasure that courses through your veins has a slice of Levi coded into the very essence of those cells. He owns you. 

You're hyperventilating, head lolling back and forth to the sides. It's so close. You can tell the incoming orgasm is about to rock your entire world.

He's relentless, sensing it himself from how hard your walls squeeze him. The hot breaths spurring from his nose hasten against your cunt. While his middle finger kneads your sensitive knot, he stretches his thumb down and wriggles it into your hole beside his tongue, resulting in a stretch you receive with an euphoric whine. 

You flit your eyes down at him. You need to. The mist clouding your head is finally giving you the courage to confront the sight of him fucking you with his tongue. 

Levi is already looking. He probably has been doing it for a while. His knitted brows paint a wanton frown on his face. You feel his grip on you tightening once he realizes you're returning the attention. 

His eyes are diluted, the expanse of his dark pupils giving them a cat-like appearance. Through them, he stares raw bliss into you. 

The knot in your gut bursts, thighs crushing him as pleasure crashes down on you with the momentum of so much build-up and edging and desire. A cry singes your throat on its way out, shattering like glass into the open air. You don't care if the whole building hears you. There isn't any space in your mind to think about anything that isn't Levi and the tongue fucking you through your orgasm. 

You can feel your cum dribbling down from where his finger slips out, but he is quick to lick everything into his mouth, even the slick coating your ass and inner thighs. He lets none of it go to waste. 

Your bliss, your exhilaration, the tight yet delicious ache in your cunt; it all stretches for longer than your stamina can handle, and Levi carries you through the dizzying sensations with slower strokes of his tongue so they don't overwhelm you. 

Your spine arches up and down, almost like a fish out of water. A small part of you wishes you could be even a little more graceful, but you have never gone through an orgasm so mind-numbingly good. It deserves to be enjoyed. 

He waits until your hips inch back of their own accord to finally draw back and let you recover. 

You've been rendered down to a sweaty mass of jelly and mush on the desk. The most your strength can amount to is the constant swell of your chest as you suck the life back into your lungs. Your hair is a matted disaster around your face. You're a mess. You can't think straight. Levi has fucked you stupid.

“Please,” you hear him groan, still perched between your legs. 

“H-huh?” The single word dribbles like drool from your mouth. 

Then your eyes peel open and you cry out towards the ceiling, stunned about the intrusion. Levi has jammed two fingers down to the knuckles without warning. He doesn't move again, letting your walls suck him in. 

“One more,” he begs through hurried breaths. “Give me one more. Please.”

Your muscles come alive in your body, lungs on fire once again. Your thighs lock around his head. “Oh, fuck. Levi—” 

“One more,” he insists, voice mellow and pliant even if he has all the power over you. “I'll make you come fast, I swear.”

Your response gets buried under the aching bliss of his agile fingers coaxing juices out with every deep thrust into your hole. The filthy noises of thick liquid being stirred melds with the open-mouthed cries stuffing the room. “Ah, God. Levi, I—I fucking… wanna come. I already wanna come so hard.”

“You will come.” He grabs one of your legs from the knee and bends it towards you. “Just wait a bit for my mouth.”

“H-hurry then.”

He spreads your thigh open against the surface of the desk, and when his fingers shift their angle inside you, the new depth they reach blows your mind. His name shoots from your lips, whiny and honey-soaked—again and again until every letter is incised down to the last detail in your head. 

“You taste so sweet.” The words melt from his mouth. He sounds so dazed. “I could do this all night.”

You would let him. Fuck, you would let him use you like a rag roll if he wanted to. He doesn't know how much control he has over you. Everything is his—your feelings, your lust, your body; hell, he could ask for all of your belongings and you'd hand them over. You can't care about anything else right now. The war doesn't matter, the legion doesn't matter, your duty has no weight; only Levi, his opinion, his fingers and his gorgeous mouth matters. 

You're glad you lack the mental capacity to blurt out these things. 

He pulls out, adds a third finger and plunges back in, stirring more slick on his way down to what feels like your uterus. 

“Ah—Levi!”

“I'm ruined. Fucking ruined,” he moans. “This is never leaving my mind. You fucking ruined me.”

“You ruined me—oh, fuck.” He twists his fingers down, poking white-hot bliss into a new spot you didn't know you had in you. “Shit.”

He leans in to wrap his lips around your swollen bud, the tissue there raw from incessant stimulation. It's like he's touching directly into your nerves. You have never felt so much in one go. 

A cry gets yanked out of you. His heated palm holds your thigh steady against the desk. You don't have the strength to pull him forward with just your heel still hanging from his shoulder. 

You can only reach down with your hands and hold him in place, eager fingers slicing through his coal-black hair. 

He shivers. A raspy sound comes tumbling out of his mouth and into your clitoris, which you take as encouragement to fist his longer strands and haul him in. His messy bangs splatter over your navel, hindering your view of his face, yet nothing brings you more gratification than watching him get buried into your wet cunt and feeling him moan because of it. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You're wailing. The high-strung way in which you sound is completely foreign to your ears. A particular hard thrust into your cunt makes you moan his name. 

You feel your juices gushing out when he retreats his fingers, but his tongue immediately takes charge, starting on your taint and dragging over every bit of tangy liquid on its way up. 

Through ragged breaths, tears, “Are you… hard?” 

“So hard,” he says, stretching the break with kitten licks on the rim of your entrance.

His cock looks the prettiest when he's aroused. It's a shame you're missing the view, but in no way should something so precious be rejected. 

“Jerk yourself. Just the way I taught you. I want— ah, I want to hear you too.”

His only answer is the moan that rolls out from his chest. You hear him fumble with his belt not long after, followed by a thud as it hits the floor. 

“Use my cum so your hand slides better,” you add. 

He sucks in your name with a sharp inhale, almost resembling a warning that he doesn't even mean. “I can never keep up with you. You're—fuck, you're so good. Too fucking good.”

“I want… your cock,” you loll your head, feeling his hot breaths over your folds, “... in my mouth.”

“You've had enough of my cock. Lie still and accept what I give you for once.” His voice is raw and breathy, particularly low on his register, but the intention behind it makes your insides churn. 

“Then make me come.”

“I will.” He licks the sheen of fluid layering your inner thigh. “I will.”

His mouth falls back on your cunt, and your hands grip his hair tighter. You might be pulling his whole scalp, but you aren't sure. Your mind has little connection to your body. Every reaction is instinctual, driven by the lust you feel for the man between your legs. 

Your thighs jerk with the slow lick he drags through your folds. His fingers have yet to make a return, and his other hand is still holding your leg down to the wooden surface. The flow of his breaths speeds up, quiet whines woven in between that he releases into your hole—that's how you know he's rubbing himself under the desk as you requested. 

“Good—ah, fuck.” His tongue plunges inside you. “Good… fucking boy.”

He moans even louder, the vibration piercing all the way through you. “I'm your good boy.”

“Yes,” you slur, peering down through half-lidded eyes. Your hands slide to the sides of his head so you can see his face. He looks up at you with his gorgeous, silver eyes. “My good boy. My pretty boy. Mine.”

“Yours,” he agrees. The muscles on his bicep shift and flex, hand working his cock slowly. “Yours,” he says again. 

You hum. “My pretty boy would know it's time to stop, yes?” 

“Yes.” He does as told. His arm halts its movements along with his hand. 

You beckon with your fingers. “Bring it here.”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Levi rises to his feet, flushed cockhead poking from his boxer briefs as it comes into view. He's coated in a sheen of your fluids from nose to jaw, and he's still tonguing his lips to taste more. You grab his hand the moment it's within reach and pull him the rest of the way forward. 

Three of his wet fingers slide straight into your mouth, tongue swirling over them, lapping up your tangy fluids mixed in with Levi's. You're able to separate his distinct flavor right away. 

Levi loses it right then. His grip on your thigh detaches to clamp around your waist and pull you in. A strangled noise leaves you when your ass cheeks make contact with his balls. His fingers pop out of your mouth on accident, but he makes use of that hand to grab your tit. The wetness of his fingers sparks a shiver through you.

His cock is so close. Fuck, you want him inside. 

Three of his fingers pierce you instead. Your back arches to the extent your flexibility allows, breast bulging into his palm. He squeezes it. 

Your legs lock around his waist, calves digging into the small of his back to urge him a step forward, and you feel his dick slapping your stomach for a precious second as he tumbles over your frame. The two of you moan into the same, loaded air. 

He drags a slow but steady pace into your hot cunt, wide silvers drinking you in and every crumb of reaction you have to offer; they flit across your face, the marks of sweat on your temple, the bridge of your nose, the pillowy lips you haven't stopped licking, your jawline; they gaze at your breasts and the dotted marks on them, his hand claiming one for himself.

He goes further still, down the dips and plains of your torso, stopping where his hand relentlessly fucks your cunt. 

You have never felt so comfortable in your nakedness. Words aren't needed to express what his eyes so blatantly show. 

You muster the strength to lift yourself up with your arms spread out behind you. Levi stops his hand, but leaves his fingers inside. The one on your breast detaches and falls back to his side. He can't read your intentions. 

You take his hot cock in your palm and stroke him, and Levi lurches forward in surprise, forehead landing atop yours with a soft touch that sends sparks up your spine. Your hand stalls for a second, the proximity catching you off guard, but you force yourself to keep moving it so Levi has enough excuses to remain blissfully unaware of how new and intimate this is. 

You swallow. It's your turn to watch him. You could count his dark lashes if you gave yourself the time. You see every speck and crease on his creamy skin; the smooth bridge of his nose and his thin lips.

When your eyes dart up, you find that he's already looking at you with his lidded silvers. His round pupils pulsate, digging through you like he wants to pull your soul out from your body. You see the pretty flecks of blue color in his irises. It'd be easy to sit here and stare at him the entire night. 

With the squelch of his fingers comes the reminder for you to continue pumping him. His breaths are hot and hasty on your face, lips parted mere inches away from yours. Together, you fall into the same stride, hands working each other slowly as if you were actually connected at the hips. 

The proximity, the intimacy, his deep stare; it's too much. Your breaths hitch. Your cunt swells around his fingers. You speed up your hand to make sure he gets there with you. 

“Levi—” 

“I'm there.” His eyes screw shut, then a moan slithers through his teeth, one you nearly taste with your lips. He presses down on your clitoris with his thumb. “I'm there.”

You finally let go. Your cunt bulges like it wants to squeeze the blood from his fingers and then releases the past half an hour of stacked pleasure in a burst of fluids that seep even with his fingers buried all the way in. 

The ache in your spine from lying on the hard surface of the desk for as long as you have loses sensation to the stronger rush of pleasure swarming your entire body. Your brain may as well be melting out through your hole. Levi's hand moves slowly, fucking you stupid through your orgasm without making it overwhelming. 

He's shaking, sweaty forehead rubbing against you as he loiters in and out of balance. The muscles on his jaw shift when he clenches his teeth. You're enthralled by the euphoric look of furrowed brows on his face, and it's perhaps the reason why it's taking you so long to get down from your high. 

Hot cum squirts over your stomach and thighs, then your hand slows down on his cock, eventually coming to a complete stop. You keep him in your grip until a low groan tells you it's time to let go. Levi slides his hand out from between your thighs, gooey drops of his own cum blending in with your juices along his palm and wrist. 

You marvel at the sensation of being so satiated you could die at this moment and not give a damn, but the loss of contact between your foreheads when he straightens up serves as your call back to earth. The peak of your plenitude drops to normal levels as suddenly as it had risen. 

“Yeah, I knew it.” He speaks quietly, gradually fixing the pace of his breaths. “I was right about using the desk.”

You curve half a smile. “I have to admit you did save me the trouble of scrubbing the couch.”

“I wouldn't have let you do it by yourself either way.”

“I think my standards for cleaning are pretty decent.” You finally start recognizing yourself in the sound of your voice. 

He pulls out a handkerchief to clean his hands. “Yes, but it'd be shitty of me to leave the hassle to you if my cum was on there too.”

You chuckle. “Good point. Thanks.”

He gives himself a moment to watch you as if he needs that extra stretch of seconds to properly register the sound of your delight. A quiet huff escapes him through his nose, one that doesn't offer any glimpse into his thoughts. He hooks his leg on the chair and drags it over with your clothes on top. The handkerchief is passed on to you. 

You follow with your eyes as he bends down to grab your sports bra from the floor, realizing what he intends to do. “Oh, you don't have to do that.”

Unimpressed, he lets his arms hang from his shoulders, the garment held between both of his hands. “You can't be serious.” And he sounds almost annoyed. It's a little confusing. 

“What?” 

“You literally just fixed my uniform.”

You blink, eyes dragging down to his pants. They're still damp with his arousal from earlier, but he has been tucked back in and buttoned up. By you, apparently. 

“Oh.”

He huffs. “You don't even realize you do it.”

You dab the handkerchief over the blotches of cum on your torso and thighs, looking for any excuse to avert your eyes. “Well, I think our situations are completely different.”

It's in his eyes that he doesn't understand even half of that opinion. “Why? Because you're my captain? That isn't an excuse to be a shitty person and ignore basic decency. Same with the couch.” 

You pin a frustrated groan inside your throat. “I forgot you don't do this a lot. It's not normal for people in sexual relationships to do gestures like these.”

Levi pauses for a moment, watching you without revealing his thoughts, then all of a sudden, he flings the bra over your head. “Good thing we're us and everyone else can go fuck themselves however they want.”

You laugh, letting him guide your arms through the shoulders straps. “I guess you're right.”

There's an amused twinkle in his eyes that’s impossible to miss in your proximity. “I am right,” he says. 

Chapter Text

“Prepare to move out!” 

A wall of clouds stretches into the distant horizon, blanketing the sky with its obscure shades of gray.

The Scouting Regiment is safe where it stands, basked in the warm gleam of noon that pours over its base of operation, but the commander is intent on marching forward, undeterred by the threats of the forthcoming weather. 

“Hey.” Levi crosses the corner of your vision, taking your attention with him as he moves to confront the owner of that order. “Do you see that in the distance, Commander? A storm is coming up.”

In spite of the words spoken to him, Keith isn’t in a hurry to conclude his conversation with another scout. He drags it on at his own desired pace, finally turning to Levi after the other has been sent away with instructions. “We can't let a drizzle stop us. Our job takes priority.”

“Your troops take priority, and you're about to send them straight into the maws of a titan.” 

The stare of the commander narrows, his attempt at intimidation flimsy compared to the icy grays challenging him back with their knife-like edge. Your shoulders tense up, but you don’t take a single step forward, waiting as a bystander unless given a reason to intervene. 

“Soldier,” Keith barks. “I didn't order a glass of your goddamn opinion.”

Levi coils into his shoulders, subduing his innate urge to react. “Perhaps I should feed it to you in a sippy cup, you damn toddler. Or are your eyes so sunken into your skull it's impairing both your vision and your brain?” 

Now you realize your expectations were nothing but wistful thinking. When it concerns interaction, Keith has got to be the worst possible match for Levi. Personalities such as theirs will only compete to surpass the other. Levi needs someone who can put out his flames, not fan them. 

You hurry to approach the scene. 

Coming from a different direction, Erwin Smith beats you to it with the same intention to stop the exchange from worsening. “Levi.” The tame veil of reproof layering his call fails to garner the scout’s attention. 

Keith steps closer, dousing Levi in his shadow. “You're looking at me like you want to fuck me or fight me. Which is it?” 

You see Levi’s next intention in the twitch of his brow and the tight clench of his fists. Your pace hastens into a sprint that takes you to his side in an instant. “Levi, stand down.”

Keith takes his attention to you. “Have you lost your leash, Captain? Get your dog in fucking line.” 

“Yes, Commander.” 

Turning his back on those words, Keith walks away before you can finish the last syllable of his title. 

But Levi isn’t done. “Don't come crying to Erwin when you lose half of your army again.”

You look over your shoulder. “I said enough.”

He’s still glaring at Keith, mirroring the energy of a bristly cat watching the threat walk away. 

You gather the long end of his cravat in a fist and pull him towards your eyes. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you, soldier.” 

An instinct makes him react right away and without thinking. He squeezes your wrist, rejecting the invasive touch he has yet to put a name to. It’s a blind moment of anger, you realize, so with a step into his personal space, you hold his gaze in yours as if to dig him out from whatever darkness he’s drowning in. The scabbard of your gear grazes his own with a light touch. 

It doesn't take you long to reach him. The tension on his face begins to dissipate the more he watches you. His grip loosens, finally grounded, and he expels the residues of those poisonous feelings through a quiet exhale. His arm falls back to his side. “Forgive me, Captain.” 

You know it isn't easy for him. The root of his fears started with a storm and a bad decision, two mistakes he finds the need to revert before tragedy repeats itself. 

Erwin is a silent spectator on the sidelines. You, of course, have not omitted the possibility that he might be testing you. 

With a heavy heart, you assume the role that is expected of you. “We're stationed in an open area and just as prone to enemy attack. Our safest bet will always be the walls, but if we did that upon every sign of danger, we would never make it a mile away from civilization. It's by stroke of luck this expedition got funded and we're not going to waste all of the effort it took to get to this point. Everyone here joined the Scouting Regiment understanding the risks. It isn't your job to vouch for anyone. Have I made myself absolutely clear?” 

The weakness you exposed in him eases back into a stoic mask. “Yes, Captain.” Like you, he knows Erwin is watching. 

“Go join your squad and wait for further orders.” You release him, watching as Levi’s posture goes back to displaying perfect control in the blink of an eye. “We'll continue this discussion later.”

Your eyes follow him as he returns to the team. 

With all that being said, a mere glimpse towards the skyline proves his concerns aren't an exaggeration. Black clouds kiss the horizon, an indicator of the raging storm that awaits you up ahead, ready to catch you in your travels through titan-infested territory. 

You snap out of your thoughts upon hearing Erwin's footsteps behind you, their coarse sound coordinated with the lighter clinks of his ODM gear. 

“Apologies, Section Commander,” you sigh. “I can assure you he isn't always like this. Not anymore.”

“I don't condone Levi's delivery, yet for all that, I can't say I haven't already tried to redirect the commander's perspective myself.” 

You should have expected as much from your leader. No one here has expressed opposition, at least openly. You kept suppressing that nagging feeling that spoke against Keith's decision because the chain of command shackles you to blind obedience. Only Levi carries enough impertinence with him to defy basic rules, but now that you think about it, of the sea of scouts around you, everyone seems equally shaken. 

With the certainty of knowing Erwin is in your same line of thinking, you find the will to give a voice to your thoughts. “It's suicide. We should be heading to the nearest forest to establish a base there. Up in the safety of the trees.”

“It would take from us an entire day the commander isn't willing to sacrifice.”

“So we sacrifice soldiers instead.” You sigh. The commander has left the walls with blurred judgment, his sights set on proving the parliament wrong, yet in that narrow vision, he has belittled the journey to that goal. 

A true leader wouldn't let external sources affect their concentration. Keith has an entire board filled with chess pieces he doesn't know where to direct. 

“I can't help but wonder how things would turn out if you were commander, Erwin.” Your innermost thoughts escape you, the kind of thinking you have no doubt is shared across the Scouting Regiment. 

Erwin overflows with promising ideas that the commander either adjusts or turns down in favor of tradition, fearing the unknown. You know for a fact Erwin would have already put together a successful formation if it wasn't for Keith limiting his creativity so it fits his narrow perception. 

As a member of Erwin's section, you get to have a taste of what a great mind can accomplish when put to perfect use. Your chances of survival rise with every idea he puts into practice on a small scale for the squads under his command. If only he was allowed to operate for the entire legion, his helping hand would be extended to every scout. 

The stretch of silence behind you reminds you of your position. 

You swirl around, succumbing to the illegible nature of his blue eyes. “I spoke out of line, sir.”

He surprises you with the placement of his large hand on your shoulder, which you take as his way of telling you he isn't displeased. “In regards to Levi, Captain,” he is quick to change the subject, his voice remaining poised, “keep the end goal at the forefront of your mind.”

Your shoulder tenses underneath his warm grip. “I… I am, sir.”

He squeezes before letting go, another silent message you fail to read in its entirety. “He's not a personal confidant. He's a scout. I trust you understand where his priorities should lie.”

You catch your mouth from slacking in shock, teeth pressing together. He knows. The extent of it is yet to be revealed, but his comment implies he has seen more than enough informality to let it go by unaddressed. 

You keep your exterior professional. “Understood, sir.” 

He nods, turning towards another direction. “We'll be departing soon. Make sure he stays focused.” His head follows the pull of his body, gaze leaving you upon the conclusion of his order. 

You return to your squad. Levi is the first one that grabs your attention. He's fixing the saddle on his black steed. The crown of his head barely peeks out of the broad frame that stands on four large legs. 

You join him on the same side of his horse, approaching with a hand that slides down the long neck of the animal. “Levi.” Though you shake your head at him, his name leaves you with a soft exhale. “When will you learn to tame that mouth of yours?” 

He pulls the belt of the saddle and fastens it around the stationary animal. “The—the storm. Fuck.” He screws his eyes shut. “We're fucked. I can't…”

You don't miss the subtle way his voice shakes, as if held together by loose threads. Your feet take you closer, aiming to get a better glimpse of his face. 

His widened eyes are drilling holes into the saddle, dreaded memories of a past he'd rather forget spilling through them. 

Your heart shrinks in your chest. “Levi.” 

A tighter grip on the saddle exposes the terror he's caging inside himself. “I can't react in time if I don't see or hear anything. My abilities mean nothing against the rain. You… we're all—”

You layer your hand over his fist. “Calm down, Levi.”

“I can't be calm. The storm and—and we have an incompetent commander, and I'm… I can't—” 

“You don't have to trust the commander. Trust me. I'll be leading this group, not him. Erwin is leading our section, not him. And I'll adjust my orders as I see fit so no one here dies. Even if it means I have to defy the commander.”

He tears his eyes away from the saddle and situates them on you. The familiar sight absorbs his vision and draws him to you, your soft approach successful in unfurling him from his tension. 

Through the wayward breath that parts his lips open, a quiet “okay” slides out. 

You nod, resisting the pull that wants you to cradle his cheek in your palm. “Team.” You gather their attention with a louder call. “Mount your horses. Make sure your gear is functioning.”

As they hurry to follow the order, you head to your horse, stopping in your tracks when something cold lands on your cheekbone. 

You wipe the droplet with your thumb and tilt your head up to the sky. 

Those black clouds are catching up.

-

The hooves of multiple horses stomp across mud and thick foliage. 

Hours of riding have taken you right underneath the rain clouds. You're following the lead of a formation that exposes your team to danger and there’s nothing that can be done about it. You can only keep them concentrated and press on.

The drizzle has grown into a heavy shower. You have to constantly run the back of your hand over your face to wipe the droplets that get stuck on your lashes. Behind you, the clouds billow into the distance, heading for the walls. You can already tell the weather will be staying for a while. 

“Titans spotted,” a team member warns. 

Two fifteen meters, it appears, drag their heavy steps across the empty plains. Though they're far away enough from the vicinity of your group to notice you, a taste of their size carries over through the ground, shaking it beneath the hooves of your horse. 

“Fire the flare,” you command, holding on to the hood of your cape so the wind doesn't push it off your head. “Keep an eye out for the commander's signal.” 

A trail of red smoke slices into the cloudy sky, the loud rain swallowing its piercing blast. You barely discern it with your ears, and it might not be long before your sense of sight is rendered ineffective as well. 

You check on Levi again to make sure he's stable on his horse. He tails behind you, clearly intentional about his proximity, unwilling to let you out of his sight in the same way you keep yours on him. His eyes are dark and focused underneath his hood.

Their honed edge soon widens as something enters his line of vision. 

You return your attention to the front and come upon a titan speeding ahead on its four limbs. Black curtains of hair fall over its face, glittering, blood-shot eyes peering through them. The sight may as well have crawled out of a horror novel, and it's moving in your direction. 

“Abnormal,” you say. “I guess there's no escaping that one. Hey, Levi.”

As proof of his strength being your own, he's at your beck and call in an instant. The hooks of his gear fire past the moving titan and into the trunk of a tree. He reels in with the impulse of the compressed gas and flies off his horse in a forward line, slicing through the limbs on the left side of the titan as he zooms by. 

It loses balance and sinks into the muddy ground, oblivious to the threat that perches on the tree behind it, fixing his aim to prepare the finishing blow. 

He watches as the titan makes a pathetic show of itself by trying to pull its body across the dirt, its attention locked on the squadron that continues to gallop forward.

Levi impales the nape of the titan with his hooks, leaving enough room for his blades to reach the epicenter. He flies in with the natural talent of a winged animal and inflicts a perfect cut that tears the skin wide open. 

The man is truly a sight to behold. He makes titans look like child's play. You're convinced he defies the laws of physics with the way he moves. A normal human could never amount to such incredible speed. 

Your team also gives into the innate urge of marveling at his superhuman abilities. The horses slow down to a trot, urged to stall so the hero can return to his group. 

“Clean as always, Levi.” Your tone steers clear of emotion, but the glimmer of pride and admiration in your gaze spoils that effort. 

The journey continues. You keep your attention sharp for those signal flares, dreading the consequences should you miss even one. Drifting away from the formation would put your lives at greater risk. 

It’s feasible work until the situation worsens from one moment to the next. 

Before you know it, the rain has evolved into a hellish downpour. It’s as if someone has pulled a lever to release the rage of the clouds in one go. The pace of the horses falters as a result, their hooves dragging over the squelch of the mud. 

Your senses are unable to perceive your surroundings no matter how hard you strain to sharpen them. The dark clouds have completely blocked out the sun, bringing with them a thick mist that makes the job increasingly harder. You can't see further than a few feet ahead of your horse, can't hear anything over the rain and the roars of thunder. You hold the reins tighter, overcome with dread. 

Compared to the restless beats of your heart, you keep yourself steady on your horse. The team needs a reliable leader at the head in order to function. You promised them a safe return and that's what you intend to do. 

Levi has abandoned his post behind you to secure a place right beside your horse. He's fisting the reins like he'll fall off without the support. Wary silvers dart around the scene, fighting against the impairment brought on by the rain.  

It will be impossible to spot any flares now. The entire legion could have easily scattered across the map, nothing but disorientation and the instinct of survival to guide them. 

Levi clicks his tongue. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he shouts over the rain. “I bet the commander is pissing his pants right now.”

You won't rebuke that thought process. You're thinking the same thing. It's a shitty situation that could have been avoided with the right call. 

If you stop moving, you risk getting left behind by the formation. Then again, with everything around you being as foggy as it is, chances are you're already anywhere else that isn't your station. 

What's the right call that will ensure your team's survival? Do you turn back? No, you're already hours away from camp. Do you keep running then? It's too much incertitude, though. At the pace you're going, it won't be long before a titan ambushes you. The best choice is to stop and take cover, but where? 

In the distant background, behind the fog, you are able to discern the dark outlines of a few trees. A small forest, perhaps. You could stop there. Provided that it isn't infested with titans. 

That chain of thought is severed when your horse trips over an obstacle and plummets to the ground, sending your world into a spiral as you fly off your saddle. “Shit!”  

The heavy clank of your gear follows. You crash the ground on your face, humid dirt rubbing onto your lips. You wipe them with the sleeve of your jacket to remove the taste of pungent earthiness. 

Your horse recovers faster than you, rising on its four legs and standing nearby while it waits for its rider. 

With the limited view the storm allows, you run your palms over the main unit of your gear to check for dents and broken parts. The scabbards suffered a few hits here and there, but the gas tanks came out of it unscathed. You can still fly should the need arise. 

You locate the hazardous obstacle that disrupted your horse's path. A giant log, it seems. 

A log covered in flesh—it's an arm. You walk your gaze across the length of it, immediately finding the head it’s attached to.

“Holy shit,” leaves you as a whisper. You scurry for the hand grips and jam them into a pair of blades. 

The titan pulls its arm across the mud until its whole palm is pressed on the ground, leverage that helps the giant creature to its knees. 

This one is bald and boney. You can see the lines of its rib cage protruding against its pale skin. Those sunken, beady eyes hold on to the sight of you like you're the best miracle it could have stumbled upon in this rain, and they trace after your every movement as you prepare to fire away the hooks. 

It's a small titan, but distance makes all the difference when it comes to danger, and you're far too close to act cocky. 

You hear the whizz of cables and the gush of gas. A sluggish moan parts the titan's jaw open before it drops to the ground. 

Levi appears atop the titan's nape, muddied boot perched on the rear of the head, a stance fit for a mighty conqueror. His silver eyes slide across his surroundings, frantic in their search. 

As soon as they locate you, he's off. You sheathe your blades into the scabbards and detach them from their hilts while Levi approaches like a child in desperate need of his mother. 

The hood protecting him from the rain has fallen off, and through sopping bangs, he scans your features, breathless worries escaping him. “We didn't see that titan. I almost didn't see it. This is what I was talking about. We can't fight with this shitty rain. Captain—”  

You cradle the sides of his face, anchoring him with your calm but certain approach. A quiet promise swirls in your eyes, one you intend to keep. “We're stopping. It's bad, I know.” You guide his attention to the dark silhouette of the trees in the distance. “We'll find high ground and wait there for the rain to let up. I'm sure we can figure out a way to tie the horses.”

You can tell the suggestion gives him immediate peace of mind. His shoulders slack with the quiet breath that leaves him from his nose. He nods. Your hands continue to hold him in an attempt to stretch the moment before your inevitable return to reality. 

It comes quicker than you would have liked. You release his face and turn to your group. They are stationed nearby and waiting for their leader's arrival. 

You pet your horse and check for injuries. There's only so much you can make out in the rain, but it appears to have come out of the fall unscathed. With the aid of your feet on the stirrup pad, you climb on its back, tugging at the reins to maneuver it in the right direction. “We're heading to the forest, my soldiers. No one is dying today.”

You reclaim your place at the front of the squad and lead the way. 

The storm rages on. Your surroundings are swallowed in complete darkness. The occasional strike of lightning doesn't provide enough visibility with its fleeting flash of white light. 

The hood of your cloak is a soggy mess on your head. Devoid of purpose, you pull it off. If it wasn't for the adrenaline carrying you through the journey, your body would have already succumbed to shivers. 

You wonder if there are still enough soldiers alive. What will the aftermath look like once the storm passes? You doubt a lot of you will come out of it unharmed. Keith would have to be insane to continue this expedition with a large portion of his soldiers gone.

It dawns on you that failure is a high possibility. You can already see yourself returning to the walls downcast and defeated, tail between your legs as the crowd scatters to pave the way to the hospital, not excluding those jabbing comments that insult the legion's work and dedication. 

The parliament will cut your fundings… and then what? Is that it for the scouts?

Erwin. He will know what to do. He always does. Such is your trust in him that you’re certain he’s still alive. If death is to come for him, his departure would be nothing short of grandiose. A mere storm will not take him out. 

A mere storm will not take you out either. Not you nor your team. 

Your gaze darts behind you to check on them. “Hey—” You suck your voice back in, widened eyes straining to make out the silhouettes of your teammates behind the curtains of rain.  

You're on your own. 

The sudden pull of the reins halts your horse on its back legs. A powerful whinny conveys its surprise. 

You look around, frantic eyes pulling your head every which way. “Oh, hell,” leaves you in the form of a shaky breath. Louder, you call, “Levi? Everyone! Hey!” 

No answer. 

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You lost them—or they lost you. It was impossible to hear the hooves of the horses underneath all the downpour and thunder. “I'm in deep shit. Fuck.”

What now? You can't stand in place and hope that your team will find you before a titan does. That being said, running around isn't the wisest idea if they are already trying to locate your whereabouts. You could walk past each other without noticing and hinder the search. 

The forest. It's up ahead. You can station your horse somewhere nearby and mobilize among the trees. That's your safest bet. 

It's fine. You will be fine. They will be fine. 

Before you can make a move, a giant hand slices through the rain and swats your horse off the ground. 

Your world is twisting again. The cries of your horse dissipate into the background. You roll to soften the crash and then rise to your feet, attaching the hilts of your hand grips to a blade each before pulling them out of the scabbards. 

No titan. No ride. Only curtains upon curtains of heavy rain. The direct blow could have easily finished off your horse, and if that's the case, you're on your own. 

You look around for any signs of the threat. The storm doesn't let you hear properly. The fog hugs you like a vice, blurring anything within and outside your vicinity. 

You're helpless. Devoid of control and stability. You fight the innate urge to scream in desperation. 

The ground shakes under your feet, announcing the return of the titan before you can detect it with your eyes. In the fashion of a spider, it runs after you on its four limbs. The determination to catch you burns in that deadly gaze. 

Instincts take over. You fire the hooks into its forehead and release a shot of gas that propels you forward. Using the speed and momentum of your flight, you jam the full length of your blades into its eyes. 

The titan howls. Its reaction to the pain shakes you off. 

It might not have been the wisest decision. You wasted a good set of blades on one attack; but the dire situation doesn't leave room for picky behavior and tactical advances. 

While the disoriented titan deals with its fresh injury, you take off towards the forest on foot and search for a stable surface that can lend itself to your hooks. 

You get a sudden influx of intrusive thoughts, an odd occurrence considering you’re in the midst of fighting for your life. Memories of your childhood enter your mind as if that would help your predicament. Is there a purpose to recalling the flavor of your favorite foods? You also think about your mother, wishing you would have made an effort to not let yourself forget how her features looked. You wanted more time to get to know Levi better. 

What the hell are you even thinking? You're not dying. Not yet. It's still too soon. 

Fuck, you're shaking like a leaf. It's as if the fog has slipped into your head. You can't think clearly anymore. 

Surfaces. Surfaces. You can't find any surfaces. 

The sudden vibrations in the earth travel up your body, turning your bones into mush. You almost lose your footing. 

A fifteen meter pulls its heavy feet behind you. This one walks on two legs, its movements laggard compared to the other, but every giant step cuts a good chunk of the distance separating you from a bloody death. 

Its red eyes flicker down, and they lock on you like a sniper keeping track of their victim. Its pace hastens.

“Shit. Oh, God.” You're paralyzed with fear. 

This storm. This godforsaken storm. 

You fire your hooks ahead of you, into the white mist without a target in mind, hoping for the best. 

You either latch onto something or you die on the spot. 

The wires tense up. By the grace of everything holy, your hooks miraculously find purchase on a steady surface. 

You release the gas and reel in, barely missing the hand that swats over the spot you leave behind. 

Your heart is in your throat. Your whole body is quaking. You don't have time to even steal a proper breath. The adrenaline is carrying you through it. 

Both the wind and the cold droplets of water feel razor-sharp on your eyes. You squeeze them shut to alleviate the sting.

That short second comes to collect tabs when you look ahead again. The limb of a tree hovers in your way, coming towards you at full speed. 

You have seconds to act. In that time frame, you manage to release the lever that pulls the wires in, scarcely stunning the momentum so you can attempt to duck underneath the branch. 

It doesn't play out in your favor. 

By a slight miscalculation, your forehead gets caught up in a blow that explodes in your ears and careens your body out of its stable flight. You think your brain is bouncing around in your head as you fall through the air, no longer able to exert command over the flailing hands that have abandoned the control grips. 

Then just as suddenly, it stops. 

You can't keep up with the changes around you. 

A giant hand has seized you mid-air, pulling you from one death and dragging you towards another. If it squeezes any harder, you fear you might hear your bones cracking. 

Your head operates as if you have guzzled an entire weekend worth of liquor in a few hours. Your thoughts are scrambled, your vision is blurry. You are physically unable to react to the acute stress response of your body. The only way it can answer is with the frantic pace of your heart as it tries to escape your chest. 

You curl a fist and attempt to punch the hand. If any other time it would have been useless, now it wouldn’t have even tickled it, but an ember of survival pushes you on. It wants you to fight until you have taken your last breath. 

Two more titans approach, and for the looks of it, they're not about to bequeath their potential dinner without a fight. 

You don't think you have ever been this close to knocking on death’s door. You’re still waiting to wake up from this nightmare. 

The worst part about this is you so desperately do not want to die, yet the choice isn't yours to make. You don't have the right to decide how your story ends. Just as you never had the right to decide how it began. 

You have always hated not being in control of your own goddamn life. 

A flash of lightning bleeds over the environment, and a powerful beat of thunder follows. You hear the purest form of rage molded into a violent cry. 

Then you're falling again, still trapped in the hand of the titan. It works as a safety cushion that minimizes the impact when you hit solid ground. 

You're convinced your brain almost melts out through your ear. Your surroundings spin as if you have been strapped to a roulette wheel. 

The ruckus of a battle takes place behind you. From a blurred perspective, you are able to identify the familiar whizz of wires, the sounds of compressed gas being released, of blades tearing through flesh, and the sluggish moans produced by the dying titans. 

It takes everything in you to wriggle out of the severed hand, and the last of your energy leaves you through a wayward breath once you collapse on the ground. The gear attached to your hips feels much heavier. 

Exhaustion lulls you, the mud taking after a decent pillow. Your eyes flutter close. 

“Captain—fuck. Are you alive?” 

Your torso rises, lifted into strong arms. Your head is unable to follow the pull, but it is immediately cradled by the hand that places you before familiar eyes of silver color. Their terror spills through torn seams as they jump over every aspect of your face. 

A wave of relief and adoration overcomes you. “Levi…” melts from your lips like the name is liquid in your mouth. 

He slithers eager arms around your weak frame and pulls you to him, nearly suffocating you into his chest. “You're alive. Fuck, thank you. Thank God. Shit, you scared me.” Levi squeezes you tighter as he breathes these prayers, refusing to let go. His nose finds purchase on your neck and nuzzles there. 

You would return the embrace if only your arms didn't feel like a couple of sacks hanging from your shoulders. “The… team,” you slur.

“I left them up on the trees. They're all safe.” 

“That's… good.”

He coaxes you away from his chest with his gentle palm on your cheek. “We have to move.”

In spite of being so close, you have to strain your eyes to depict the details on his face, and even then, it's not enough. 

You're tired. 

“Captain.”

Your eyes slither back against your control. 

“Captain.”

Levi is here. You're in his arms, held by his tender gaze, your safety guaranteed. You wouldn't find a better haven anywhere else. 

With these reassurances in mind, you succumb to weakness and lethargy. 

He calls you by your title once more, and when that doesn't work, he switches to your name, each repetition louder than the last, until his voice blurs into nothingness and your surroundings fade away. 

Chapter Text

The world around you is quiet when you wake up.  

It would be easy to ignore everything and continue sleeping. You find yourself in a comfortable bed, the pillow fluffy against your cheek. Combined with the peaceful solitude and the dim lighting, you would not have received a sweeter invitation anywhere else. 

Your eyelids drip shut, almost on their own, so it's strictly by choice and pure willpower that you force them open again. 

The ceiling greets you first, made of the same stone that keeps the four walls of this room standing. You don't have much furniture at your disposal other than the bed, a nightstand and a couple of chairs standing below the window. Nothing about this place resembles your quarters.  

Though you don't recognize where you are, your brain isn't quite ready to operate. It feels as if the bandages wrapped around your head were holding it together better than your own skull. The muscles in your arm weigh down your limb to the mattress, but you overcome the heavy drag and bring your hand up to your forehead, where a gauze pad covers an injury that seems to have been inflicted there. 

Your arm drops back on the bed, devoid of strength and energy. 

The sole act of producing thoughts makes you drowsy. It's already late. You might succumb to the void once more… just for the night. 

The sound of the door brings you back. 

A young woman peeks through the slim opening, and upon realizing the only occupant inside is finally awake, she proceeds to fully open the door, showing herself in her work attire: a long-sleeved dress with a skirt that reaches her ankles. The white cap on her head and the armband with a red cross embroidered in the center provide enough information to know what her profession is. 

“You're awake. Good evening, Captain.” Her voice flows with tenderness. “My name is Eleonor Hoffmann. I'm here to check up on you.” She says your full name and asks you to confirm the information. 

You nod. 

Eleonor walks in, carrying a medical bag with her. You feel the invisible weight of her attentive gaze as it follows every movement you make, however small, not missing a single detail.

She leaves the bag on the floor and draws out a clipboard to scribble on a white piece of paper. “I'm going to check your vitals now. You can stay exactly as you are, Captain. No need to strain yourself.” 

You're sure that if you attempt to say anything, it will dribble from your lips like goo, so you stick to nodding. 

“I will start by checking your heart rate.” Her delicate hands lift your arm, first and second digit pressing over your pulse point with a touch so soft it's the furthest from intrusive. She counts for what feels like a minute before your arm is laid back to rest. You watch as her hand flies across the paper to document the information. 

After that, she touches you again to check your respiration. Meanwhile, you struggle to stay awake, and it doesn't help that the careful way in which she handles you lulls your brain into a partial state of sleep. More notes are taken. Then the process repeats when it's time to check your blood pressure. 

She disrupts the silence with a sudden question. “Can you remind me of your last name?” 

Your response is groggy and coarse, laden with many hours of sleep. 

“How about your age?” 

Talking doesn't come easy to you, evident in the extra seconds it takes you to provide such a simple answer. Your voice drags it out as if it has gotten torn from your chest. “Where are we?” you ask next.

Her attention remains on her notes as she writes. “A hospital in Quinta District, ma'am. The expedition is over. You are safe now.”

“Expedition…” 

It only takes an extra second for your brain to make the connection. 

Many thoughts and memories crash down on you at once. You recall the expedition, the rain, the titans and the bluish silvers that held you as you lost consciousness. 

Your eyes widen. 

You passed out, and you took your judgement with you, depriving a team of their leader at the worst moment possible. 

You scramble to sit up. “Oh, hell. The expedition. The rain. Where are—” The room spins, sparks filling your vision. You dip your head into your palms and groan. That slight movement mirrored the effect of falling off a ledge two stories above solid ground. 

Eleonor urges you to lie back down. “You just woke up. I know it's a lot to ask, but please try to remain calm. Your health takes priority.” 

Her gentle approach coaxes a similar response out of you, though that doesn't stop your mind from racing with fear and incertitude. “I'm responsible for the group I lead. I'm their captain and I need to know.” You're already breathless. 

“At the present time, you are a patient above all else. Try to—” 

“Please. Did they make it back? All of them? I need to know.”

Her eyes lose their aloof edge, revealing the sympathy that only a pitiful patient invokes. You wonder how often she treats scouts, and if they're all the same sight every time. 

“I don't have the answers to that,” she says. “I'm sorry.”

“Is there anyone here I could ask?” 

“I'll help you with that in a moment, ma'am. First, we have to finish here. It's important that we verify your state.”

“How long have I been out?” 

“Since arriving here, a day and a half. I was told you were unconscious for about eight hours before returning to the walls, so that brings it to nearly two days.” She lifts her hand. “Take a look at my finger as it moves.”

You have no trouble following the direction she dictates. “How did the aftermath look when we returned to the walls? Were our troops considerably smaller?” 

She grabs the quill and writes again. “I can't really say. I wasn't outside when the Scouting Regiment arrived, but the hospital has been rather busy.” 

So nothing has changed. You fought, you lost and only a portion of those soldiers made it back. 

“The weather fucked everything up.” It's just as Levi feared. “Oh, God, no. Levi—shit. He probably made a ruckus after I passed out. Oh, no. This is bad. I need to see him.” You move to toss the covers off, but Eleonor stops that intention with her steady hand on your shoulder. 

“None of that, Captain. At least not yet.”

“But I—” 

“I promise you I will find those answers for you, okay? Once we're done here, you stay in bed resting and wait for me. Sounds good?” 

Do you even have a choice? It doesn't seem like she is willing to relent. 

“Okay. Ask for someone named Levi.” You give her the names of your other squadmates, urging her to find out about their status as well. “I just need to know that they managed without me—oh, and ask for Section Commander Erwin too. And Hange. And—” 

“Grab my hand and squeeze as hard as you can.” 

You do as you are told. “And if the parliament has already said anything, I need to know that too.” 

“It will be okay, Captain.” She returns to her notes and scribbles some more.

“I doubt it. I really doubt it. We're the Scouting Legion. Luck isn't usually on our side.” 

Though Eleonor can't answer on the troops' behalf, it wouldn't take a genius to propose the likelihood of a bad outcome. 

The chances aren't looking too bright. You couldn't be with your soldiers when they needed you the most. Not only that, but Levi was in a near state of panic before you lost consciousness. The dire circumstances could have easily affected your squad's performance on the way back. 

Then there's the possibility that he took his frustrations out on Keith and Erwin. 

You don't know the chaos you could be returning to. 

A low groan slips through your teeth. “Shit, this incertitude is killing me. How long do I have to stay here?”

“Your motor reactions are slightly laggard, but there are no signs of brain damage. The cut on your forehead is superficial and it should finish healing in the next few days. I'll come to change the bandages later.” She returns her things inside the bag and clips it shut. “You will be okay. One or two days of rest in the hospital to keep you under observation and you'll be good to go.” 

Two days. “Or I could just leave tomorrow morning. I have work to do.”

She walks to the entrance, bag in hand. “That depends entirely on how you wake up. I promise you I will try to get answers for your questions.” She pulls the door behind her, watching you from the slim opening that remains. “In the meantime, rest, captain. You need it in order to heal faster.”

“Okay, I'll be waiting.” 

The click of the door leaves you in complete silence. 

“Fucking hell,” you breathe. How can she expect you to rest? Levi could be stuck in some serious trouble. 

That is if he made it back. You're just assuming he did like such a thing is guaranteed. Having better chances doesn't mean he is exempt from death. 

He could have perished along with your entire team, and what's a captain without soldiers to lead? You don't think you would ever be able to forgive yourself for disappearing in such crucial circumstances. 

A jug of water next to an empty mug drags your eyes to the bedside table and a new need arises. 

You pour yourself a glass. The severity of your thirst doesn't hit you until your throat feels the water. You fill yourself round after round until the jug is empty and you have droplets sliding down the corners of your mouth. 

You wipe them with the sleeve of your shirt, realizing then that you have been provided with a clean set of casual clothes. 

It's quiet outside. The day has already ended. A lonesome oil lamp on the bedside table engulfs you in a bubble of light. 

You turn on your side, facing the wall beside the bed. Your thigh bounces on top of the other, a testament to the thoughts keeping you anxious and very much awake.

What if Levi murdered the commander?

Now you're being ridiculous. 

Or are you? 

You are. Levi isn't like that anymore. You should have faith in him. 

That is if he's even alive. You seem to be so sure that he is. 

You fold the pillow over your face and groan. “Damn it all—” 

The door opens. 

You sit up so fast it's like your brain bounces inside your head, but you ignore it, training your wide eyes on sweet Eleonor instead. 

She fills the gap between the door and the wall with her frame, hand on the knob. “Levi is here—” 

Holy shit. You couldn't have asked for a better outcome. 

“Let him in.”

“Visitation hours are over, Captain,” seeing as the addition fuels your urge to protest, she continues before you can interrupt her, “but for your peace of mind, I have decided to give him two minutes so he can answer your questions. This will take place under my supervision, and when the established time is up, I'll escort him out. Those are the conditions.”

You keep forgetting even a nurse precedes your authority when it concerns health. Especially inside a hospital. It's not optimal, but you can work with her proposal. 

“Okay.”

She steps aside. 

The second you make visual contact with those familiar eyes, you feel one layer of tension dissipating. 

“Levi.” He's alive. And so gorgeous too. “How is—” 

He approaches you with an urgency that tries to hide behind long steps and a strained tone of voice. “They're all fine. The entire squad made it back.”

“Fuck, that's—” Your face falls into your palms, where you expel a wayward exhale. A wave of relief washes over you, and it leaves you feeling twice as exhausted in its aftermath. “Thank you. Thank you. God, I'm so glad to hear that. Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if any of them had died because of—”

“That wouldn't have been your fault. Your commander didn't listen to reason and made shit-ass choices.”

You suck in a breath and move your eyes back to his. “Levi, please tell me you didn't…”

“Even though he deserved it?” 

You give him a long look. What the hell are you supposed to make of that answer? You can't even be angry. Your brain doesn't produce new thoughts. It only makes you blink at him. 

“I wanted to,” he says, “but I didn't. I didn't do anything.”

You jerk a brow like a mother who doubts her son. “You didn't let your mouth run loose?” 

“No, I realized the consequences of his actions were teaching him enough about what it means to suck ass. Bastard looked as pale as a ghost when his shattered legion regrouped.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your lips from lifting into a smile. “Okay, Levi. That's enough.” 

He shrugs, unbothered. “I held it in for as long as I did.”

With the first wave of unease gone, you allow yourself to fully take him in. He looks pristine in his uniform, cravat neatly styled around his neck. The orange light of the lamp bleeds over his whole frame, giving a subtle glow to the silver gaze that admires you with a tender look. 

Your own walls collapse at his feet, even if a distant thought suggests Eleonor may see it because of your angle. “I'm glad you're okay,” leaves you with a soft breath.

“I'm glad too. That you're okay, I mean.” He reciprocates the low volume to keep this exchange as private as it can get. His expression loses softness when a light frown mixes into it. “That was a close call, though. Had I been even a second late—” 

“But you weren't.”

He was right on time and you're still alive. Everyone in your squad is alive. It's the best outcome you could have asked for given the odds. 

Levi looks troubled in spite of these facts. “I just… I don't know. I can't stop thinking about that one time Erwin wanted to transfer me to another squad and that I could have made the choice to let him do it. What if I hadn't fought to stay?”

Questions like that will only trap him in an endless spiral, though it seems he has already been entertaining those inner demons for a while.

You grab his hand, trying to pull him out of his own mind before he can drown. “You made a choice and it worked out in the end. I'm grateful you were there, Levi. Truly. But don't take this as a reason for you to doubt my strength.” 

Slowly, as if fearful of rejection, his fingers loop over yours one by one until he's properly holding your hand in his. “I wouldn't. I'm aware that you're strong.” 

Your head must still be fusing different thoughts into a convoluted mess because you can't stop hyperfocusing on the fact that he's touching you—as if he hasn't already done it in multiple places far more personal than that. 

Holding hands is very different; surprisingly so. It's a lot that makes you feel weak, only this time, you don't mind it at all. 

Now you're starving for more. If his hand transmits this much warmth and comfort, you wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To have him embrace you. 

A nervous feeling sprouts in your stomach just from thinking about it. The notion is so absurd, especially at your age and at this stage in the relationship. 

You're almost certain your face reflects that desire, and to your surprise, it's similar for him. His eyes are also divulging something, though it's hard to decipher what that could be other than knowing he won't act upon it so long as there's a witness at the door. 

You really want to touch him. You want to cross that barrier in spite of everything. It's hard to care about privacy when the urge is so new and strong. 

Levi raises his free hand and moves it in your direction. 

“Time is up.” Eleonor muddles the moment with her reminder and pulls you back out to reality, simultaneously disrupting the physical contact linking you to your soldier. “I'm sorry to cut this short. You can return tomorrow anywhere from 9 a.m to 8 p.m and have more room to talk freely.”

Levi still shows residues of the spell that had been induced, visible in the dazed look his lidded eyes show. “I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier. I'll make it in time tomorrow.” The words are nearly whispered, and it gives them a croaky veil. 

It's his silent promise for a chance to continue this in privacy. 

“Okay.” Your insides are liquid, a fog clouds your thoughts and it feels as though your body may finish shutting down at any moment; yet through all that, you dutifully long for his eventual return as he heads out. 

His eyes connect with yours a final time before the door closes, leaving you to your mess of emotions. 

Did Levi even have permission to be here? Quinta District is the outermost eastern district in Wall Maria and a long way from the Scouting Legion's headquarters in Wall Rose. Maybe it's the reason why he arrived here so late. 

You can imagine him insisting at the front desk to be allowed in, not knowing much about hospital protocol. He must have been relieved to know you finally woke up. It would have been nice to see his expression as it happened, though you guess he must have held in his delight in front of the nurses. 

You lie down on your stomach, bury your face on the pillow and kick your feet into the bed. A small sound grazes the back of your throat, something like a strange blend between a groan and a giggle that you do your best to squash down. 

God, this is fucking ridiculous, but you can't stop either. When did you become so childish? 

Still thinking of him, you eventually succumb to sleep. 

-

The hours drag on at the slowest pace. 

You watch from your window as the sun descends the orange sky with still a while to go before it even kisses the head of the wall. It seems to not be moving at all. 

Not even in titan territory has your patience been tested in such a way. It feels as if you've been anticipating nighttime for hours, and the day would have felt three times as long if you hadn't slept through the entire morning. 

The grogginess from yesterday is gone and you're ready to head back to work. You have so much restored energy you don't know what to do with, leaving you to pace around the room as your only means of expelling it. The books Eleonor brought you didn't do enough to entertain you for long. 

You just want to resume your routine. 

It's ironic that only a week ago you were running on low fuel and sleepless nights, wishing for a chance like today: of being able to do nothing. Back then, it was wistful thinking. 

And now that you got that wish granted, you want out. Uneventful days are not your type of lifestyle. You know that now. 

So it was a relief to hear from Eleonor that you will be discharged first thing tomorrow morning. 

Just half a sunset to go before nighttime arrives. 

A couple of knocks on the door pull your attention in its direction. Eleonor stands at the entrance, blocking your view of the hallway outside. “You have a visitor,” she announces. “Section Commander Hange Zoe.”

Your first thought had considered Levi's arrival, but having your dear friend over is an opportunity you'll receive with open arms. You didn't think Hange would find the time to make the trip to Quinta District. 

“Yes, of course. Let them in.”

Hange takes your permission before Eleonor can assess it, shouldering past her to make it inside. “Hey! How are you faring, Captain?”

You smile, thankful for the entertainment they are sure to bring with their visit. “Hey, Hange. All good. I should be returning to my duties tomorrow.”

Eleonor takes her presence out, though not without shooting a wary look at the newcomer. She wouldn't know they don't mean any disrespect when their unmeasured energy catches innocent bystanders in the way. 

The door finishes closing with a soft click. 

Hange lands a playful smack between your shoulder blades. “That's great! We're in need of all the people we can get to handle the aftermath.”

“How much in terms of casualties?” Your stomach becomes a bottomless spit as you await an answer. 

“Somewhere around twenty percent for the time being. Keith is still checking numbers.” The words have a dim sound, spoken with the fallen soldiers in mind. “Could have been worse, I guess.”

“It could have been avoided.”

It looks like Hange hears the spiteful edge in your words. “The commander only ever acts with good intentions. I can promise you he values the lives of his soldiers.”

You had forgotten the commander brings out a side of Hange you aren't used to seeing. Keith touches a soft spot in them, the kind that habors very specific feelings. 

You shrug, shaking your head in jest. “Oh, Hange. What to do with you?”

It catches them off guard for a second, and only a couple of blinks later, they cackle towards the ceiling. “Hah! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” Their voice rises several decibels, intent on shifting the attention back to you. 

You laugh with them. “Okay, okay. Calm down. Sheesh.”

“If I had my doubts before, now I'm fully certain. Levi couldn't keep his eyes off of you the entire way back.”

Your smile drops. “He couldn't have been that blatant.”

“No,” they reassure you, waving that worry off with their hand, “but on Levi, even a subtle glance can become too noticeable.”

You cross your arms. “Well, that can't be good. Erwin confronted me about it before we left base.” 

“I think he'll overlook it.” And they sound very certain about it. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Levi pulled the attention of many on the way back. In a good way, I mean. It's like we were dealing with a different person. A leader. I wish you could have seen him, though you may as well have been the one who drew it out of him. I don't know what happened after you passed out, but when your team regrouped with the rest of us, they were following Levi.”

The gap of silence stretches as you process this information. You didn't doubt the man when he told you no attempts were made on his part, but the news Hange brought with them have far exceeded your expectations. 

“Are you serious? Really? What about the squad leader?” 

Hange plops down on the bed. “Oh, he was doing his job, don't worry, but the team was naturally inclined to follow Levi's opinions and decisions.”

You always knew he had it in him. That it happened on the recent expedition and under unfavorable circumstances is what surprises you. “That's… wow. I was fearing he might have lost his cool and confronted the commander. I'm glad I was wrong.”

“He is evolving, that grumpster,” Hange sighs as if the thought of the old Levi is a distant yet fond memory. “Romance really does change a person. Who would have thought?” 

Your grip on each arm tightens, releasing the full brunt of your tension onto them. “Not necessarily, Hange.” 

“I've met couples who fuck around for fun and trust me, something here is different.”

You sigh. “That isn't reassuring to hear.”

“It's inevitable, girl.” They shrug. “But, hey, it's working. He's changing. Erwin was pleased to see it. So all is good for now.”

“For now.” 

“Just make sure the situation stays under your control.”

“Yeah, I understand.” 

Hange stretches their arms over their head, groaning with delight as they drop on the bed at an angle in which their head touches the pillow. “Man, that long ride from headquarters did a number on me. Erwin sends his best regards by the way.” They flounce their hand at you as if to mock a greeting from Erwin. “He's currently helping Keith with all of the paperwork and stuff, but he made sure to tell me he's relieved that you're okay.”

You lean against the wall, still facing their direction. “I appreciate it. What about funds?” 

“It's being looked into. I think they're trying to schedule a meeting with the parliament to discuss the future of the regiment. I'm sure Erwin will come up with something good.”

You nod. “I have no doubt that he will.”

“Ah, shit.” Hange sits up, remembering something. “No time to rest. I have a couple of squadmates I need to check up on. We'll be talking soon, Captain.” They nudge your shoulder as they pass by, a friendly gesture that you return in the same manner before the contact walks away. 

“Thanks for coming, Hange. See you soon.”

Once the door closes behind them, you turn your attention back to the view outside your window. The sun has already disappeared behind the wall and it's only a matter of time before it completely sinks into the horizon. 

You wonder if Levi will make it before the visiting hours are over. It's a long way from the scouts' headquarters so you won't hold it against him if he doesn't make it. You can ask for his side of the story tomorrow. 

The minutes aren't moving fast enough. You force yourself to pass the time with one of the books Eleonor lent you. It's a fantasy story about a prince and a knight competing for the love of a princess. 

Somewhere along page ten, you reach the conflict of the story. A titan sneaks into the castle and steals the princess, and now both the prince and the knight have to work together and venture past civilization to get her back. 

You can already tell the author is someone with zero knowledge about titans and the outside world. A privileged writer from Sina, if you had to take a guess. The description even fails to capture the terror an actual titan invokes. 

Page twenty-eight cuts to the princess' point of view, and only a couple of pages down the chapter, you are horrified to learn she's actually falling for the titan. Did the cover really say best selling novel? You are inclined to question what people consider art these days. The citizens of Wall Sina are living a complete fantasy. 

A knock on the door saves you from the hypnotic trap of the book. You slam it shut and leave it on the bed. 

Eleonor comes into view. “Levi is here. Do I let him in?” 

He made it. 

“Please.” You stand up to receive him. 

For this visit, casual clothes replace the uniform he wore yesterday. It's a simple combination of a light-colored woolen shirt, black pants and dress shoes that he enhances with his pristine appearance. 

The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of you inside. 

You cross your arms. “You didn't care to tell me?” 

The act convinces its sole spectator, who now believes you're upset about something he has no knowledge of. “What?” he asks, incredulous. “But I didn't say anything out of line to anyone.”

You walk closer. The light curve of your lips betrays your theatrics. “Not that,” you chuckle. “I had no idea you led my squad back to safety. You're the reason we all returned home.”

“Oh.” He averts his gaze, shying away from the praise. “I only killed a few titans.”

You stop just outside his bubble of personal space to preserve some formality while you continue the talk. “It was more than that. They were compelled to follow you.” 

“And I was asking them to stop that.”

“I always knew you had it in you. I knew it.”

He clicks his tongue, faking a glare that's too soft to be taken seriously. “Don't turn this into a big deal. I was only following your example. It was all you.”

Warm feelings surge in your chest as you look at him. 

Maybe it's in your head, but even now, he looks more self-assured and in control. Everyone would tell you that's just how he has always been, not realizing that you were all witnessing an outer shell meant to protect his soft center. The scout that stands before you isn't hiding behind a tough facade. It's him with all of his new wisdom and perfect imperfections. 

You already knew this had been months in the making, though thanks to the news Hange delivered, you can see an almost finished product standing before you. 

“I'm so proud,” you breathe. “So happy.”

Levi studies your smile like it's the most precious rarity. “You're happy,” he repeats, craving your confirmation. 

“Yeah.”

An invisible force lines your gazes to each other. There's so much life in those silvers—a far cry from the sight you witnessed on your first encounter. You can hardly believe they were once deadly, not when you have seen how soft they can get. 

You wonder if he pays any mind to your eyes as much as you do to his. Does he see any other shades besides the normal color of your irises? Has he memorized every change they go through as the days go by? 

The spell is disrupted when Levi blinks. He looks away and clears his throat. “Well, that's good. Also… I brought you something.” 

Your attention switches to the hand he lifts into view. You hadn't realized he brought a paper bag with him. The enticing aroma finally reaches you once it's in your hand. 

Your smile widens. “You got me a hot bun?” 

“You seemed to like it last time.”

You're feeling too many emotions for this man, and the “thank you” you say to him isn't proportional to their extent. 

It's hard to continue the conversation when there's so much nervousness and incertitude involved, but the promise he wedged between the lines last night was enough proof that what's happening isn't one-sided. 

You take the plunge. “Last night, when the nurse was here, I think you were holding back. It looked like you wanted to do something. What was it?” 

Did it come out sounding too desperate? Maybe you should have worded it in a different way. What was it? you asked. It's like you're begging on your knees for him to resume. 

But maybe it's all useless overthinking, you realize soon after, because Levi doesn't deny it or even hesitate to act. He reaches out with his hand exactly as he did yesterday, encouraged by your curiosity. 

If his eyes transmit heat, the back of his fingers are like soft embers brushing your cheek. The touch melts you to the bone. Despite telling him you didn't want to be regarded as weak, you seem to want to succumb to it whenever he's involved. A part of you wishes you would faint in his arms again and remain there all night. This time without titans or danger. 

He carries the touch up the side of your face and slides gente fingers through your hair. Levi takes his time and is diligent with his caress, dragging it all the way to the back of your head. His eyes are lidded and focused on his work, breaths deep and so quiet. 

You're sure he feels the shivers creeping up your nape when his palm finds purchase there. Your heart is unhinged, spurred into overdrive because of his hand, and keeping your breaths stable is almost impossible by now. 

Levi brushes along your shoulder and down your arm. He's only touching you, providing intimate comfort and basking in this reality, where you're alive and with him. 

“It looked like you wanted to do something as well.” It sounds as if the words were far too thick and heavy for them to be spoken in his normal range of voice. 

You can barely talk properly yourself. “Yeah.”

“What was it?” 

You leave the paper bag on the nightstand, your movements laggard as you stall for time and courage. 

His eyes are patient but expectant, focused solely on you. He looks at you like you are the center of his world, and nothing, not even a titan invasion, could take this moment away from him. 

It's just a hug, you tell yourself. By far the most simple and innocent request you could crave, and yet at the same time, one of the most intimate. 

You should just go for it. Levi is waiting. Whatever you're willing to offer, he wants it. 

You're reduced to the likes of an awkward kid with the way you handle yourself. You take a tentative step forward, then stall some more until finally you rest your head on his chest. 

Levi stands in place, rigid from head to toe. His heart is manic inside, screaming for more of you even if he wouldn't know what to do with it. 

So you give him more. Your arms lift to circle around him and pull him in. When your bodies meet, Levi sucks in a breath, growing stiffer in your hold. You angle your head so it settles into a more comfortable position, cheek now resting on his shoulder. 

“I really appreciate you, Levi,” you whisper. 

Like with most things in his life, Levi is quick to adapt. A portion of his agitation leaves him with a long exhale that helps to ease his muscles, forehead landing on your shoulder. A single arm gets strewn across your back and pulls you in, fusing the front of your bodies together. 

You were complaining about time moving too slowly for your liking. Now you wish it could wait forever. 

It's overwhelming in a wonderful sense. You have friends and comrades that are very dear to you, but none of those relationships have ever reached a stage that could provide you with this same example of intimate regard. 

You dreaded the thought of Levi rejecting your advances. As it turns out, him accepting them scares you even more. 

You lift your head, and Levi follows after you. Your eyes meet, raw and longing for the other and so clearly enamored. He looks intoxicated, and you likely do as well. 

Your mouth speaks with a mind of its own. “I could kiss you right now.”

His eyes remain droopy with how little they widen. A small breath leaves him through his mouth, woven with what resembles the quietest of laughs. “I'm not sure I'd be any good at it.” The volume of his voice is limited to just the air you breathe. 

You keep repeating the memory of his small laugh in your head. It was an absolute pleasure to hear. 

“I wouldn't care.” I only need you, is what you want to say, but you hold it in. 

Levi seems to understand it either way. You didn't think his gaze could become any softer. It's like the gray has dissolved from his eyes, leaving the most perfect shade of slate. “Go ahead then,” he says. 

Yet again, you learn it's even scarier to have Levi's approval. You're usually the one putting the brakes on him, but there's no one to do it for you if he's going to abide by everything you propose. 

Hange has given you enough warnings already. Maybe they would hit harder if Levi was the one who said them. 

He inches closer, looking more nervous. “Don't make me wait too long,” sounds like a plea. 

His stare carries enough warmth to melt you. His cheek burns when you layer your palm over it. The pace of his breaths falls into disarray, hot and desperate against your mouth while it draws closer. 

He squeezes his eyes shut before you can kiss him, bracing for it like you were about to zap him with your lips. 

Instead, you approach him in the same way a feather floats down to solid ground, noses brushing past each other as you nudge into his mouth and settle there.

You have created a moment where everything in it is slow and careful. He doesn't have to strain his abilities to keep up with anything. You grant him all the time he needs to adjust to the feeling and the intimacy it brings. 

It's a simple kiss, but you accept it like it's all you could possibly want. Anything is valid inside this small room when it concerns just him and you. 

Your hearts dance to the beat of a messy rhythm. You keep your palm tender against his cheek while your other one moves down for his hand, fingers weaving together. 

Your patience reaches him and he starts letting loose, finally easing into you. His pursed lips relax a bit more, which allows them to properly lock with yours. 

A pleasant feeling starts in your chest and rolls down to your stomach, and it acts as the detonator that sets the swarm of butterflies free. Your mind doesn't know anything else right now. Only Levi and every wave of emotion he causes in you. It's a different type of euphoria, one that is gentle and calm like stilled waters.

He leans back and takes in all of the air he neglected while his mouth was dealing with the new sensations. His eyes are glassy, face tinted a light red. It's an endearing sight to witness. The legendary titan slayer can't handle a kiss with the same grace he uses to exterminate his enemies. 

You chuckle. 

He looks away, turning his head in the same direction in an attempt to hide his expression from you. “Don't start,” he grumbles, urging you back a couple of steps to recover some personal space. “Well, it happened. Now go eat your bun before it gets cold.”

You laugh because it's such a mood-killer, yet it's so characteristic of Levi that you can't be annoyed. “Alright, fine. Since you went through the trouble.” You turn to the nightstand and grab the bag. 

“I didn't take you as the type who read fantasy.”

“Huh? Oh.” You find the book you left on the bed, now in Levi's hands. A feeling tells you he's trying to walk around the awkward situation. The tip of his ears are still red even if he's acting like his usual self again. “It was lent to me to pass the time. That one sucks, though. I think the princess falls in love with a titan.”

Levi manages a look that is both horrified and pissed at the same time. “What? Why would anyone write something like that? Who in their right mind would want to write a romance story about those ugly-faces?” He's already flipping through the pages. 

“Someone who has never seen a titan, I'm sure.” You take a bite of your hot bun. The blend of spices wakes your taste buds in a single go. “Read the description on page twenty-nine. It's entirely romanticized.”

He follows your instructions, a scowl accentuating on his features as he finds the paragraph in question. “Fair alabaster skin glowing underneath a shower of moonlight. Eyes flashing with the beauty trapped inside his prison of a body—I'm going to gag.” 

You cackle with the food in your mouth, hand raising to your lips. It sounded repulsive when you read it, but the disgusted incredulousness present as Levi recites the sentences gives them a comical kick of flavor. 

“Foolish girl wouldn't have had the time to be that deep if this was real life,” he says. “The titan would have eaten her before she could finish the word alabaster.”

You have a hard time swallowing your food amidst all the amusement. “God, Levi.”

“Who even writes like this? Why would anyone buy this?” 

“Beats me.”

“On top of having shitty writing, they can't even get their facts straight. How is romance supposed to work? Titans are brain-dead.”

You hum. “Maybe you should travel to Wall Sina and give him a literature class on romance novels.”

“It's nothing anyone should be giving a class about if it's common sense.” He closes the book and eyes the front cover, scoffing as he reads the title. “Stuck Between Three Loves by Egon Huber. If I ever see him, I'm inviting him to a trip to the outside world. All expenses paid.”

You snort, munching on another piece of the bun. “Do you read, Levi?” 

“Sometimes.” He tosses the novel back on the bed. “When there's nothing to do.”

“That explains the passion.”

“It's not passion. I'm simply disgusted.”

“Sure.” You step closer and present the bitten hot bun to him. “Here, now you try.”

He leans away so it doesn't smack him in the face. “Why are you always trying to force-feed me? I got it for you.” 

“It's fun to share.”

Levi huffs. “Fun?” Nevertheless, it doesn't take more than that single reason to convince him. He approaches the bun, willing to try a bite. 

You switch it for your lips and peck him. The contact is brief, lasting even less than a second, merely a tickle of mouths. 

Levi stumbles back a step, frown wiped from his face and replaced with a stunned expression of red cheeks. 

“You're so cute when you ramble about the things you like,” you say. “You should do that more often.” 

He blinks, speechless. A second passes, then another, and once his brain reactivates, he clicks his tongue and looks away. “You're… annoying.”

Chapter Text

You get the last of your paperwork sorted out and leave it on the stack assembled at the corner of your desk, ready to clear out the space before you depart for your quarters. 

In the distance, the gray skies roar in that specific manner that announces the likeliness of another storm, which has been a constant occurrence for the past three nights, a fact stating that the rainy season has started and you were the unlucky bunch who caught its first day on titan territory. 

It's quiet on the other side of your window. The Scouting Legion's headquarters lacks its usual number of soldiers. With the conclusion of the procedures that come after an expedition, the last of it being the funeral that was held yesterday, the scouts were given a few days off to visit their families. 

You're part of the minority that stayed behind, using that time to catch up on some of the work you missed. 

The day flew by like this. Now you're out of tasks and have no other choice but to end your shift early. 

Oil lamp in hand, you exit your office and lock the door. 

Another blast of thunder accompanies you on your way down the stairs. You can already smell the faint traces of rainwater in the humid air. A strong downpour will arrive soon. 

It takes you back to that titan encounter on your last outing, and you can't help the shiver that crawls up your spine as your body recalls in precise detail how it felt to almost die. 

Once it happens, there's no coming back from it. The idea wasn't alien to you. Exposure to death comes with the job after all, but it's another thing altogether to experience it firsthand; to feel death breathing down your neck. 

It's scary, and it's out of your control. It's also the life you picked for yourself, and you can at least claim that choice as something of your very own. 

At the end of the stairs, you find Levi on the opposite end of the hallway just as he's done closing the door of Erwin's office. He notices you in his peripheral vision and his head immediately follows the same direction. 

The corners of your mouth lift into that particular smile the sight of him draws out. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.” You walk to him, Levi reciprocating that intention to meet you at the center, where the corridor to the main doors intercepts. 

“They had me doing errands to cover for the lack of personnel,” he says, and you don't miss the tired way in which he speaks, voice croaky and slurred. 

“That ought to keep you entertained at least—wait… Levi?” You halt your pace once he's about an arm's length away from you, the entirety of your attention situated on the swollen, dark crescents tracing his under-eyes. “What the hell happened to you?”  

His hairstyle is neat, and he's nicely put together despite his casual choice of clothes, but the stiffness in his posture and the tired expression on his face are stark oddities soiling his appearance. His bloodshot eyes fight to stay open, narrowed more than usual and stuck in a permanent glare. 

You're shocked. 

“Erwin had the same dumb look as you,” he notes like it's a passing thought. 

“Please tell me he dismissed you early.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… good.” Your expression switches surprise for concern. “You haven't been sleeping well?” 

“I never sleep well.”

“But it looks like you haven't so much as blinked for several nights. It's really bad, Levi. Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” he drawls. 

“Why haven't you been sleeping?” 

“I don't know.”

You jerk a brow, imitating the look of a mother who knows better. “Surely you must have some idea.”

He averts his eyes, and then his head follows. “I'll sleep tonight. Just drop it.”

“You don't want to tell me?” 

“It's none of your business.” It shoots out with spite, warning you to back off. 

He makes you feel like a stranger, like you're waltzing into private grounds uninvited. Needless to say, you take offense in that, lips parting to push out a light scoff. “Okay, wow. Sure, I guess it isn't my business.”

It pulls his eyes back to yours. He's quiet for a moment, contemplating thoughts that stay hidden in his mind. Not even while exhausted does he relinquish control, intent on opposing the heavy drag of his own body. 

“The storm.” His voice is considerably softer when he speaks, holding that special regard for you he's currently struggling to display. “Hard to sleep with the noise.”

It's easier to connect the dots from there. He's clearly intent on keeping the details to himself, but you know better than to buy into his dismissive act, not when he reacted so strongly to the presence of a similar storm when you were out in titan territory. 

If normally he isn't prone to conversation, the fatigue has only made him even less tolerant of it. His mood is a delicate fuse you must thread around with care. There's no use in pulling answers from him now. Levi reacts best to actions. 

“What tea have you been drinking?” you ask. 

“Black. Same as always.” 

“That isn't going to help you either.” You drop the volume of your voice so it reaches only your desired spectator, knowing Erwin and other scouts are still in the building. “I think I have some chamomile tea blend in my quarters. I'll brew you a cup. It's supposed to help with sleep.” The nod of your head invites him to follow you to the doors. 

He asks just as quietly, “You're suggesting I step into the officers' building? That's not allowed.” 

“And since when have you been such a stickler for the rules?” 

“It's not that, but anyone who sees me will kick me out.”

“I didn't say we were going to the kitchenette.”

The absence of an immediate reply instills the sudden fear that you may have taken it too far with your proposal. You hardly thought it through. Your heart felt the desire and your mouth released it of its own volition. 

Your quarters embody every remaining personal detail about you outside of work. Hardly any boundaries would exist after that. You suggested the idea like it wasn't a big deal when in fact it is. 

“Fine,” Levi fills the silence that you thought would soon suffocate you, “though bear in mind you're the one condoning this, Captain.”

You fight every innate reaction in you to sustain a facade of indifference and control. “Technically, we'll be off duty for the next few days. This hardly counts.”

You step out of the building with Levi following from behind, and together you make the walk to the officers' quarters. 

HQ is desolated, even dimmer and quieter without the people that breathe life into it. The sun is still midway through its descent, struggling to worm its yellow beams past the thick cover of gray clouds.

At the front steps of the building, Levi remains put under your order. You check for unwanted bystanders first, reacting to the light screech of the door as if it's howling your name to alert everyone of your misdeeds. 

Instead, the inside is quiet and with no one in sight. You give the signal of approval to Levi, who mirrors your discretion as he walks up the stone steps and follows you into the corridor towards your place. He offers to hold the oil lamp near the door so you have an easier time finding the key hole in the lock.

It's only upon entering your dark quarters that you start to give the possible state of your place some thought, unable to recall how it looked before you left for work in the morning. You heed order and hygiene to a standard that promises he will not encounter a mess when the candles are lit, but you worry about the smaller details, like possible clothes hanging on the chair or any neglected trinkets that might be collecting dust on your shelf. 

The light from outside dims as you close the door. “Make yourself comfortable. It's just us tonight. No roles or anything to worry about.” You slink through the darkness with little effort, knowing every inch of space that composes your humble abode. You walk past the couch and around the circular table to reach the chest of drawers positioned against the wall. “I have two more oil lamps over there.” You poke a finger in the direction of a shelf. “Can you light them up? I'll handle the tea meanwhile.”

He gets to work without uttering a word.

You search inside the first drawer, skimming through the small collection of containers for the chamomile blend. It's a struggle that lasts until Levi feeds the flame of a second lamp. You find what you're looking for after that, easy to recognize with the patterns of decoration engraved on the lid. 

A stronger gush of light fills the room as Levi puts a third flame to life. 

My place isn't such a bad sight, you realize with relief—or so it seems that way to your eyes at least. You don't have enough furniture or belongings to make it look disorderly even if you happened to skip a day of cleaning. Your home only has the space to cram the essentials for a simple style of living; albeit one that is comfortable and private. That's all you really need. 

Levi didn't walk out after his first step inside so that counts as something. 

Once more, you find yourself overthinking in the name of this man. The urge to shake your head is inevitable. 

Tea blend in hand, you promise him a quick return as you head back out. 

It's an odd feeling to know Levi remains on the other side of the door, keeping the room alive while you're away, and that unlike every other instance in which you come back to stillness and silence, this time you'll return to an illuminated place with Levi as its cherished occupant. 

The sky outside cracks open as you course around the kitchenette to prepare the tea, and in the short span of time between pulling items out of their drawers and leaving the kettle over the fire, the weather switches its gentle beginnings for a heavier downpour, firing bullets into the roof of the building to announce its return. You barely hear the clink of the teapot when you place it on the counter. 

A gut feeling tells you Levi isn't faring as well as he wants you to believe. He looked as tense as a coil pulled taut. The effects of the rain are noticeable on his body. It's a recurring demon in his mind he can't push out. 

You toss a teaspoon of the chamomile blend into each cup and follow it up with the hot water that immediately draws out an enticing aroma with its steam. 

You keep track of the seconds that the tea needs to properly steep while you finish up in the kitchen, eventually pouring the rest of the water into the pot before it can join the teacups on the tray. With the addition of other items and utensils, you tug its heavy weight off the counter and make the walk back to your quarters. 

The image that greets you inside is exactly what you envisioned. Your place is lit, cozy and occupied. Levi takes his gaze away from the window to watch you kick the door shut. His posture remains uptight to an extreme degree. You also take note of his folded arms, which try to hide the tight clench of his fists. 

Your voice slides out with far more softness as a result. “Fifteen seconds to go before they're done steeping.” You set down the tray and spread out its contents over the table—first, the saucers with their respective teacups, then the pot, a couple of teaspoons and the blend. 

Levi stalls for a few seconds before he feels comfortable enough to approach, though the distance is cut short when you meet him halfway with his cup and offer it to him. “I kept a careful track of the time. Tea should be perfect now.”

A flash of lightning outlines his face as he grabs it from the rim, the flow of steam hitting his palm. You take in his content expression and smile as a result. It's endearing to see how much he enjoys tea. Levi is a simple man of even simpler tastes, but you want to know everything even so. His choice of novels could be as bland as the way he takes his black tea and you would still be happy to hear endless rants about them. 

The start of a “thank you” crumbles before it can leave his mouth, helpless against the crack of thunder that shakes the window and pounds into the walls of the building as if the gods themselves were delivering a threat. 

You jump back as the teacup shatters on the floor, stumbling on your feet to regain balance. A few drops of hot liquid fly off with the impact and stain your pants. The chaos comes and goes like a shot of adrenaline that dries up too fast. Such was the amalgamation of sounds that the rain is reduced to a background ring in the aftermath. 

Levi looks mortified. One would think he unintentionally murdered a child in front of your eyes. “Shit, I'm sorry. I—” Devoid of words, a low groan of frustration scrapes the walls of his throat, tongue clicking behind the tight clench of his teeth. His expression tenses into a deep scowl that he aims at the mess on the floor. “Goddammit, I'm sorry. That was so stupid.” 

“It's okay, Levi.” You try to soothe him with your undisturbed demeanor, sidetracking to the chest of drawers to retrieve a disposable bag. 

“It's not okay. I broke a teacup and wasted a good blend—” 

“It's just tea.” 

“Still.” He's already crouching when you turn back, mirroring the high-strung energy of a small animal being preyed upon. 

The sky roars again, as if toying with your poor guest, and although you can tell that he fights every instinctive reaction in his body, the light twitch of his shoulders escapes him. 

You join him on the floor. “I got it.”

“It's my mess.” The words fire out quick and breathless, boosted with angry exasperation. 

“Levi, calm down. You shouldn't handle shards with unsteady hands.”

He angles his scowl at you. “I'm not—” Another round of thunder makes him clamp his mouth shut. 

You hold his gaze, patience oozing out of yours. He keeps his shock to a minimal display, but the light of the flame works against him, exposing what looks like a gentle quiver in his eyes. 

“I have a rag on the shelf. Go fetch it for me.” It comes out sounding like a suggestion that offers him an excuse to escape the task he's too ashamed to leave in your hands. 

Levi takes the chance without adding a word. He walks away to do as instructed. 

You gather the broken pieces inside the bag and rise to your full height. An awkward tension fills the air as you work in tandem to fix the mess, all of it exuding from Levi's side. It's as if an ominous cloud follows his every step and charges the air wherever he goes. 

He avoids your eyes, wordless as he bends down to soak up the liquid with the rag, depriving you of the chance to steal the chore from him again. 

“I'll grab another teacup.” Your gaze is the last part of you that leaves him. Not wanting to subject him to the rain on his own, you hurry out and return to him within a minute with a new cup and saucer in hand. 

Levi is a fast worker. He's already sweeping the last of the smaller particles into the dustpan with a broom he grabbed from the corner of the room. You busy yourself at the table meanwhile, preparing a second cup of tea.

You notice from the corner of your vision that he goes back to scrubbing the same spot, arm muscles straining like he wants to dig a hole through the wood. You try to summon him with the clink of the teacup as it touches the saucer, but he only continues to push his anger out on the floor. 

Looking over the table, it's clear to you that he's fighting an invisible stain. “It's clean already, Levi. You can leave it.” Your words don't encourage him to stop. You doubt he even hears you. “Levi.”  

His head snaps up, as if woken out of a trance. He eyes you with the sharpness of a soldier who knows better than to relax in enemy territory. 

Except you're not in enemy territory. You're back in the walls. Inside your quarters. Just him and you. 

“It's okay, Levi,” you reassure. “Bathroom is in the other room. You can wash your hands there.”

It takes him a couple of seconds for the information to fully register in his head. Still doubtful, he rises at a slow pace, like he has to physically tear himself away from the floor. 

You focus on the back of his head as he walks away, pulling out one of the two chairs to sit on it. His movements hold a calculated, nearly mechanical appeal, afraid that any less control will give away too much. 

You opt for the cup that has been neglected for longer to sample it. The heat has gone down, but neither is it lukewarm yet. All in all, it's a cup that can still be enjoyed. The blend steeped nicely as well. 

The sound of the door Levi closes after him takes your attention up and away from your cup. Your guest carries himself back to the table with silent steps, a ghost trying to attract the least attention possible as he slides into the opposite seat. 

“It's okay, Levi.”

“I get it. You already said that.” He grabs his teacup and brings it to his lips. You hear him take a long sip, the scowl on his face still intact. A simple pleasure that would have hit the spot any other day barely has an effect on him now. 

“No, I mean… it's okay if the storm makes you nervous.”

“That would be ridiculous,” he snaps, unsteady eyes watching you above the hand holding his drink. 

“Levi—”

“Because I'm a scout.” The cup lands on the saucer with a heavy clink. “I kill titans for a living. And I was a thug. I've done a lot of messed up shit—so that would be ridiculous.”

“Two of the three expeditions you've done were ruined because of the rain. I don't find it ridiculous at all. You've suffered losses so big—” 

“Enough.” The word pierces the air, but he seals his mouth right after, denouncing his own reaction with a tame growl, then he rectifies it, his tone of voice easing up. “Just… not right now.” 

“Okay.” You can't even be upset. His lack of control is shocking, more so while he's putting in twice the effort to maintain it. You won't force an explanation out of him, but staying quiet will only keep the spotlight on the storm. Your mind scavenges for a topic of conversation and picks the first choice it gets. “I got the book.”

He stops the cup inches away from his lips. “What?” 

“Stuck Between Three Loves by Egon Huber.”

The cursed names of the book and the author are enough to win his full attention, and with it, his disapproval. “Why would you waste your money like that?” 

What to even answer without sounding like a nutjob? His rant about the absurd content was the cutest act you have ever witnessed and it's essentially what sold the book. You wanted an excuse to continue shitting about it with him.

You shrug. “I got curious. It's like with accidents. People can't stop looking no matter how hideous it gets.”

“Can't say I share the sentiment.” He places the cup down. “So what else is new with the story?” 

You swallow another mouthful of liquid. “Titans can bleed to death apparently. The knight journeying to rescue the princess struck one through the stomach.”

“Without ODM gear?” He entertains his curiosity with a dull tone of voice. 

“It was a swordfight.” 

“The titan was using a blade?” 

“Graciously and dexterously…” you recite, unable to keep your smile from growing. 

“Too many bad adverbs for one sentence.”

“... with a fist propped to his back and the other one holding the sword before him protectively.”

He rolls his eyes. “Good grief. It's bad enough that he uses people pronouns for those monsters. There's too many stupid and redundant adverbs. I doubt he bothered to research the specifics of using a blade. He's a damn idiot posing as a writer.”

You were right. He's so adorable. You could listen to him as he breaks down every chapter and paragraph, down to the last sentence and word, all night long without getting bored. 

“And the princess was dancing with the titan,” you continue, purposely fanning the flames of his displeasure. 

“I thought the titan bled to death.”

“That was a random titan. I'm talking about the love interest titan.”

He scoffs, lifting the cup back to his lips. “My bad.” 

“They were in a library—”

“There's just a library chilling in the outside world now?” 

“It was the titan's castle,” you correct like that makes more sense. 

“Sure.”

“The princess was on some type of tall platform, holding the giant hands of the titan over the balcony. 'And so they swayed and swayed into the dead of the night. With the white shower of moonlight bathing them'.”

His brows tug into his eyes, forming a deeper yet all too confused scowl. “What's with his obsession with the damn shower of moonlight?” 

“Beats me.”

“Well, thanks. I'm dumber now with this knowledge and so are you.”

You laugh, pleased about this entire exchange. “We might be getting some Mitras volunteers in the upcoming years thanks to Egon Huber.”

“May the walls spare them,” comes his sarcastic and dull reply, uttered into his teacup as he rolls his eyes. 

“Most won't make it past Erwin, I'm sure. The guy gives one hell of an introductory speech. He doesn't sugarcoat anything.”

“No wonder you got like nine people last time.”

You shrug. “It's not the worst we've gotten.”

“What's worse than nine?”

“Take a guess.”

Levi eyes you like he's mildly annoyed about the unnecessary game, yet he indulges you with an answer right away. “Five.”

“Try again.”

“Four?” 

Your lack of a response indicates he still hasn't hit the mark. 

“I'd wager none,” he says into the cup before sipping more tea. 

“A little more than that.”

He raises a brow at you, incredulous about the new thought that sprouted. “One?”

You get comfortable against the backrest. “In the flesh.”

“You were the only one from your group?” After a long look that doesn't deny his claim, he huffs quietly through his nose, attention returning to the tea. “That's some dedication.”

“We're all maniacs in the scouts just attracting each other, I guess.”

“Maybe you can shed some light on Erwin then. I chose to join his side and yet I can't understand him. I don't know where it is I've agreed to follow him to. It's like his eyes see something I'm completely blind to.”

You release a thoughtful hum. “We all have the same goal on a large scale, but I can't say I know the specifics of what drives his resolve. I doubt anyone does. Erwin has the natural talent of inspiring people to follow him. He appears to have it all figured out, so it's easier to trust his judgment regardless.” 

It seems he was expecting a different answer. “Why did you join, then? I figured you saw things with the same eyes as Erwin.” 

You push out a breathy hah while reaching for your tea. “You give me too much credit. My reasons aren't so noble. No. Actually, you won't hear dumber reasons from anyone else.”

“Sounds bad.” He focuses on the circular patterns his slender finger traces over the rim, masking how deep his interest runs. 

A nervous feeling exposes itself in the airy laugh you expel. You dug yourself a hole and willingly crawled inside. Struggling out of it now would be pointless. “God, how to even word this? Bear in mind I was around sixteen and stupid when I graduated.” 

Levi is more than glad to give you full ownership of the stage. He invites you to proceed with his silence and whole attention. 

You cut to the chase. “Everyone kept suggesting I join the Military Police, and I didn't want anyone telling me what to do, so I chose the scouts.”

“You're kidding.”

“I wish I was. It's stupid, I know. It's just…” You hope that some elaboration can help soften the blow. “I wanted to be in control of something for once. I didn't choose to be on the streets, or live half of my childhood in the orphanage, or get thrown into the military. I felt like I had some power back when I went against what everyone was suggesting.”

“It's still dumb, but I get where you were coming from.”

Nervous feelings fuel the smile that lifts the corners of your mouth. It's the first time you have spoken about this to anyone, and now you can't seem to stop. “I didn't have the best reputation by the end of our training years. I was made fun of a lot.” 

“Ludwig,” he suggests, bringing up the name like it's the cause of every misfortune inside the walls. 

You push out a sound that falls somewhere between a scoff and laughter. “Yeah. Granted, we were all teens bullying each other over dumb shit, but I couldn't understand as much at the time. Everything seems like a big deal at that age. Then Erwin arrived with the facts to weed out the ones with weak resolve and as it turns out, no one wanted to join—that man… he hasn't changed at all.” You shake your head, recalling the speech that made you think he was on some secret mission to boycott the scouts. The fact that he looked not much older than the people standing on the opposite side of him was what surprised you the most. It didn't take you long to realize his mind operated with the knowledge of someone with wisdom and experience beyond his years. 

“I saw an opportunity to restart,” you continue. “Wipe the board clean. So I joined the scouts.”

“How hard did it hit you?” And he knows it's not a question of whether it did or not. It always does, and the strongest soldier alive wasn't exempt from that fact either. 

“No one ever forgets their first expedition. It's hell on earth for everyone. Comes like a slap to the face.” You place your attention on the empty teacup, sifting through old memories in your head. “I spaced out when I saw my first titan and couldn't get it together for the next hour or so. I thought about quitting, of course. Many times. My pride is the sole reason you have me here today.” It's what has pushed you through many unpleasant situations, though you can't deny it's also what has clouded your judgment many times. It's a double-edged sword you learned to handle with time. 

You wish you could claim some deeper motivation like a craving for freedom or the urge to protect humanity. It's what drives most scouts to continue and what pushes kids into signing themselves up for a fate they don't expect. 

“The Cadet Corps needs serious reforming,” you say. “No one who comes out is ready for duty, and that applies to any regiment. They take them too young, for starters. Their brains can't comprehend the decisions they're about to make. Much like myself. In that regard, I sympathize with the kids that lose themselves after joining the scouts, so I try to help them through it.” You disrupt the chain of sentences with a heavy and noisy sigh. “And that's as much of my life as you're gonna get tonight.” 

Coming out fresh from the talk, you find yourself unable to look at him, so you give the window your full attention. The storm shows no signs of stopping soon and you aren't about to send him back to the barracks. It's a given he won't try to sleep with the weather working against him. 

You want to stretch your invitation for as long as the rain decides to last. “Do you know how to play chess?” 

The question catches him by surprise. “Chess? No.”

You slide your eyes back to his face, pleased to notice the distraction has allowed him to relax into his seat. His shoulders, previously uptight, now hang at his sides. Your presence takes possession of his gaze, dragging every other sense of his away from the rain. 

You feel comfortable as he looks at you. You always do. “Would you like to learn? Storm won't be letting up anytime soon.”

He places his empty cup down. “I wouldn't mind it.”

A chess board with all of its pieces awaits you on top of a small table near the fireplace. You usher Levi to the couch that is stationed in front of it and invite him to take a seat beside you, turning the board so the black pieces lean towards his side. 

You proceed to explain how the game works, using the pieces to illustrate their functions. Levi is quiet and attentive as you speak, silver eyes following every movement you make on the board. He doesn't ask more than a couple of questions to statements you would have otherwise forgotten to mention. 

“With all of this into account,” you say after about five minutes of a smooth run-down, “the end goal is to checkmate my king using the right move combinations.”

His expression stays unbothered, masking the extent of his understanding. “Sounds like something Erwin would know how to do.”

You begin to fix the pieces on the board. “Challenging him to a chess match is like asking for humiliation.”

“Looks like you're speaking from experience.”

You are, but you try to keep it from showing on your face. “I'm not too bad. You're still learning so I'll go easy on you.” 

The start of the match is uneventful. You hold back on taking his pieces until you sense he has gotten a better grasp of the mechanics. He responds slowly during his turns, asking for reminders every now and then of how and where to move a specific piece. 

He takes your pawn with his knight, leaving it on a spot where it becomes an easy target to your bishop. When your turn arrives, you make the comeback. 

For a moment, Levi only stares at the board, breaking down the situation so his brain can assimilate it. “Oh, so that's how it works.” 

“The knight has more value than a pawn. You need to know which pieces to sacrifice.”

As time passes, Levi gradually becomes engrossed in the game. His quick adaptability never ceases to amaze you, reflecting in chess like it does in his everyday life. Every mistake fuels his knowledge and pushes him to make better decisions on the next turn. 

You sneak glances whenever the chance presents itself, unable to resist the view of him concentrating. The tired look in his eyes reminds you he's operating on many sleepless nights, so the urge to give away some pieces is almost inevitable. You can't deny he's doing very well despite the circumstances. 

It's his turn. He bends forward to grab his bishop, looking certain about the next move he intends to make, but another crack of thunder disrupts that intention. His concentration snaps like an overused band and the bishop falls off. He hurries to retrieve his arm and ends up knocking half of the pieces off the board. 

You try to catch a few of them as they fall. The ones that escape you roll away on the floor. 

“Fuck—sorry.” He fists his hair, growling in frustration. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

You leave the pieces on the board and then grab his hand, urging it off his scalp so it can claim a safe spot above your thighs, sandwiched between both of your palms. Despite your encouragement, he keeps the muscles clenched into a tight fist. 

“I'm—” 

The tender breath that slides through your teeth hushes him. No other sound leaves you after that. You offer him some privacy by avoiding his eyes, keeping yours trained on the slow movements of your thumbs as they trace back and forth on his knuckles. Even without looking, you can feel his gaze moving over your features, intent and burning. 

Patience and care coaxes his hand into finally relaxing. With a sigh that releases the last of his tension, he lets its full weight rest on your thigh, surrendering to your quiet displays of affection. 

“The storm gives me nightmares.” He sounds even more exhausted now. The mental chains fall off and his mouth pours everything out, seeking relief from the emotional weight. “I see them. And I also see you. I see gruesome deaths. I can almost smell the blood. It's easier to stay awake.”

You wait a few seconds to make sure there's nothing else he wishes to add. “Do you still blame yourself for their deaths?”

His hand tenses again. “I don't know. It's strange. I made it in time to help you, yet for some reason I only think about what would have happened if I hadn't.”

“Because you're thinking about the next time something like that might take place.” 

He refrains from answering right away, and it makes sense that he does. You were told he trusted your strength, yet his fears tonight are a blatant display of the opposite.

“Am I wrong?” you ask. 

“No.”

You aren't upset at him. You are upset at yourself, though. You promised him more than you were capable of delivering. You promised him an outcome that is and will always be out of your control. 

The reality is that you can't be as strong as him. No one else can. The odds will always favor him over you and the rest, which ultimately exposes him to a future where most of the people he knows now may not be alive. 

Your fate is out of your control no matter how much you wish that wasn't a fact. You proved him right about his fears, you gave him reasons to care, so you know nothing you say will ever reassure him. 

“Levi, I don't want you to worry about me.” 

Your words don't reach him. He hardly even considers them. “But I do. I just do.” His hand maneuvers away from your warmth to close around your wrist, fingers pressing lightly on your skin before he tugs you towards him. 

The new proximity adds another layer of intensity to his eyes, which swirl to life with every emotion he can't be bothered to hide in his exhaustion. Everything is there, laid out for you to see. It is fondness and warmth and so much silver compiled into a look that feels strongly for you. 

“You're not allowed to die,” he says. 

Your heart is racing and you're short of breath. You don't know what's so frightening about his eyes when they're the most beautiful they have ever looked. 

Levi hasn't always been easy to read, and despite your confidence nowadays, he still isn't an open book. It was simpler to deny —or at least not think about— the depth of his affection when nothing had been specified with words, but now that the proof is there, so clear in his eyes, hope turns into a fact. 

You have never felt so much in your heart at the same time. It's a mix between elation and fear, but also frustration and a lot of desperate longing. 

You long because it doesn't seem like he can ever be fully yours. If duty doesn't force you apart first, there's a chance death might. 

The light touch of his nose pulls you back to the present, foreheads brushing together as Levi leans closer. His breaths have sped up a little, blowing as warm and quiet puffs against your mouth. You let the flames in his gaze consume you, and then when you're too weak and desperate to stall any longer, your eyelids drip shut. 

You wait, and he waits as well, yet again placing the outcome in your hands. Your pulse is frantic in your ears, and you can hear the quick pace of his own heart in the background. 

“You don't have to ask for permission, Levi,” you whisper, nearly kissing him as you speak.

His response isn't immediate, but it eventually comes. He lolls forward only the slightest inch, connecting his mouth with yours through a touch that's barely present.

You accept it for what it is, respectful of his slow pace. His confidence grows from there and he continues until your lips finally fuse. 

Then they linger like that, timeless. 

You adore the parts of him that are gentle and timid. It's a hidden side that craves reassurance and extra care. Something he can only entrust to you. An indulgence he seldom allows himself to have. You are a safe haven where he can open up and unwind, where he is promised comfort without judgment, and tonight he chose to indulge in your mouth. 

His lips are pillowy when they're not pursed. His gentle exhales tickle your skin now that he's letting himself breathe through the moment. He slides his hand up your arm and edges forward, simultaneously drawing you in so your bodies share the same heat and space. 

Maybe you're in the right stage at the right time. Maybe you don't have to seek anything more. You're dancing in some sort of limbo together, but so far, it's something that works for the two of you. You're there for each other. It's a mutual exchange of comfort. Both physical and now emotional as well. Nothing else needs to be defined. 

You want to part your lips and propose a deeper kiss, but Levi breaks away before the idea can set. He lingers close, resting against your forehead, the tip of his nose connected to yours. His lids surrender to the heavy weight and flutter shut. You're certain it wouldn't take him longer than half a minute to drift off. 

It's still hell outside. The last storm continued until early morning and it could very well happen again. 

“Stay for the night,” leaves you through a timid breath. 

“On your couch?” His mouth barely moves, murmured words brushing over your lips. 

“No.” You don't see the need to suggest the alternative outloud. 

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“We're off duty.”

He shakes his head, disregarding that reason. His concern lies elsewhere. “I might keep you awake all night.”

You doubt it. He looks like he could pass out the second his head touches a pillow. You're hoping your company and the extra privacy will soothe him and drive the nightmares away. 

Besides, even if he does wake you up… “I don't care.”

“I didn't bring anything.”

“I have a spare toothbrush.”

He releases an amused huff through his nose. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

The blatant adoration reappears in his eyes when he opens them again. “Very well.”

Reluctantly, the intimate moment has to be disrupted in order to proceed with your intentions. You take one of the oil lamps to your room and invite him to come along. 

It's an even smaller area than your living room. The furniture is crammed inside, leaving little space to walk around the bed. You have the bathroom door to the far left, a closet against the wall and a dresser situated next to it. 

You leave the oil lamp on the bedside table and move to look for suitable nightwear in your drawers. Levi notices your intentions and tells you not to worry about it, but you persist in your search. You sleep in fairly loose clothing so it shouldn't be hard to find him something that conforms to his body. 

The final pick ends up being a baggy cotton shirt and dark slacks. You pair them up with a brand new toothbrush and a clean towel, and because your awkward guest doesn't take a single step without your permission, you show him to the bathroom like he's a child who needs to be escorted. 

While he changes, you fix things up in the living room. It takes you longer to find the one chess piece missing from the board, which you later note had rolled under the couch. As for the teapot and everything that came along with it, you'll get them tomorrow, opting instead to put out the other two lights and call it an early night. 

The creek of the bathroom door summons you back to your room, eager to know how your choice of sleepwear fits him. 

Your shirt hugs him tighter around his upper back than it does on his waist, where the fabric hangs loosely. Any slacks meant for men would look more baggy on him compared to the one you lent him, but it still looks like a comfortable fit for him. 

You hum with approval, content with your decision, and snatch your own set to take with you to the bathroom. 

Inside, while on your own, it's easy to overthink as you get ready for bed. 

Not only did you take a leap today by inviting Levi over, now he's in your room, and he's about to spend the night in the same bed as you. It feels like you've been doing everything backwards. Or rather, in a complete disorder. 

It also feels oddly domestic in all the good ways. Usually, there's a clear purpose to your encounters, whether that's work-related or for personal favors, but tonight it was only casual. You drank tea, then played chess; you talked about the most random subjects and will soon climb into bed.

It brings a nice and comforting feeling into your chest. 

You're greeted by the most amusing view. Levi is static in place like he's surrounded by rabid beasts in the middle of the woods. The sound of the door and your approaching footsteps steals his attention away from the trinkets on the shelf as he finds your figure stepping out of the bathroom in lighter clothes. 

You cross over to the bed and pull out the covers. The size of the mattress is meant to accommodate one person, so even if you adjust properly, it will fit both bodies with little to no personal space in between. You should have considered whether that would bother him or not before going ahead with your invitation. 

At least you have two pillows. 

You sit down and pat the empty spot beside you, watching Levi as he courses around the bed. You may act like you know what you're doing, but in reality you're just as awkward and new to the experience. 

His movements are riddled with restraint as he sits down on the edge of the bed, and you can read his body language well, because it doesn't look much different from yours. There's a lot of conflict. In your case, a part of you wants to run off and avoid the unexplored, but then the more bold and eager side of you doesn't want to give away this chance. It wants to continue, to test new bounds. 

The desire to be near him always perseveres in the end. You always continue. You always stay and encourage it. 

Much like you are right now. You extend the invitation by lying down first, then Levi kicks his shoes off and follows after you, claiming the other side of the bed. He faces the ceiling, stiff as a board, while you tug the covers over his body and yours. 

You huff a quiet laugh, cheek burying into the pillow as you turn on your side to see him better. “You can't tell me that's how you sleep.”

He doesn't tear his eyes away from the ceiling. “I can sleep sitting on a chair.”

“You're not on a chair. You're on a bed. So take your pick. What's your ideal position?”

“Don't have one.”

You push out a noisy exhale. “Good grief. Lie on your stomach to see how it goes.”

He doesn't move. “I'm fine like this.” 

“Lie on your stomach.” Your voice evolves from a whisper to a soft command. 

“We're off duty. You can't order me around.”

You throw your arm across his torso, fingers pressing into his waist to haul him onto his side. “Lie on your stomach.” You don't leave room for objection. 

The click of his tongue shows little resistance. His body follows the pull without a fight until he's lying on his stomach, face shifting over the pillow to rest in your direction. 

A bashful exhale escapes you when your knees graze his side. You aren't close enough to touch noses, but the proximity allows you to feel every warm breath on your lips. His pretty eyes captivate you once more, quite the sight to behold despite the dark circles under them. 

“That's a good boy,” you hum. 

A light color spreads over his nose and expands to his cheeks. “You're annoying,” he grunts. 

You fix the sheets over his body, tucking him in with your affection. “We're going to sleep now, so close your eyes.” 

Since he doesn't obey the order right away, you brush your fingertips over his tired eyelids, touching his lashes and then his cheekbones. He doesn't have the willpower to open them again once your hand strays away. 

“Try to relax,” you say. “We don't have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Another blast from the sky tries to make a mockery of the progress you had made, yanking Levi out of his rest. He peels his eyes open, and they immediately seek refuge in the sight of you. 

You thread gentle fingers through his hair as a response, proving to him that you are indeed right here. Your palm comes forward to drag over his bangs and push them back. His dark pupils slither in that same direction between fluttering lids. 

“You're coddling me too much,” he murmurs, words dripping like dense liquid from his mouth. 

“Everyone deserves to be coddled every once in a while.” You alternate between dotting touches on his face and soft scratches along his scalp. Levi's skin is warm and silky smooth, tinted with the soft glow of the candle on your nightstand. “Sleep,” you whisper. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

You doubt he hears that last addition. His lips are loosely parted, stubborn frown at long last absent from his face. With the tension gone, he surrenders the full weight of his head to the pillow. 

He's such a gorgeous man in every sense of the word. It's overwhelming to just think about it. 

You turn on your side and blow out the flame, dousing the room in complete darkness. 

Chapter Text

You spend a few minutes moving in and out of sleep before your eyes finally open in the direction of your bathroom door. 

You're lying on your side, curled up into a ball with the warmth of the covers up to your shoulder. It's almost impossible to detach yourself from your bed. 

Your first complaint comes as a slow and croaky sound that stays pinned inside your throat. You turn on your back with a lazy grip on the sheets, ready to tear them off despite not wanting to. 

But wait, you realize, snapping your eyes open to glance at the ceiling. Because of the commander's trip to Wall Sina, all activities have been suspended and the main building will stay closed for the day. 

Erwin left with him, of course. After the failure that was the last expedition, saving your funds will be a matter of confronting the wolves in Mitras with nothing but the right declarations, and to stand a chance, those words can only be uttered by the scout's one and only silver tongue. 

It's a little discouraging to know the reputation of your branch hasn't changed for the better in all the years you've been a scout, but the future doesn't feel so uncertain when you think about Erwin Smith in it. 

For now, the one option at your disposal is to wait for their return. 

You could take Levi out to the nearest district like last time to pass the afternoon in a tea shop. A warm feeling surges in your chest when you think about it, and then along with that thought, a recent memory hits you, eyes widening as you turn your head to check beside you. 

Levi lies exactly as you left him last night, not a hair or muscle out of place. Half of his face rests on the pillow, his loose expression of parted lips facing your side. On his forehead and between his brows, the marks of his usual frown are gone, making him look several years younger. 

His eyes remain shut behind messy tufts of hair, some of them sprawled on the pillow. It seems he hasn't stirred at all since you both fell asleep. The many nights he spent awake knocked him out cold—that and he likely felt more comfortable within the privacy of your quarters than back at the barracks. 

The most sound coming from him are his deep breaths, so any careful move you make to turn in his direction is stark in comparison. 

You would sooner jump out the window than get caught staring while he sleeps, but the sight draws you in. He looks at peace, almost defenseless like this, and you're suddenly filled with the desire to protect him, even if there's no amount of strength you could offer to this man that he doesn't already have. 

You can only offer him your space, your presence and the silence, though with the way he looks right now, that might just be enough. You're enough. 

Waking up next to him feels so natural. You didn't realize how much you were craving company until he brought it to your place. It's scary to think you could easily get used to a routine that involves him. A routine where you could be endlessly drunk on the blissful feelings he gives you. 

Even thinking about Levi as anything more than a sexual partner makes your skin crawl. Granted, you have known for a while he represents more than just physical pleasure, but using the proper terms for such intimate grounds would make it far too real. 

It's complicated only when you think about it, so you won't. 

In an attempt to avoid disturbing Levi, you take several seconds longer to remove the covers and swing your legs off to the side of the bed. You don't doubt his capability to hear a pin drop while sleeping, but it seems his exhaustion got the better of him this time around. 

Seated at the edge of the bed, you have to check the clock twice in order to believe that you have slept through the entire morning. It will be noon in only a few minutes. 

Behind you, the sleeping beauty has yet to stir. You have the sudden urge to slip the covers back over his shoulder, but instead of doing that, you rise to your feet. 

The small window leads to a nice view outside. There's not a trace of last night's storm in the cloudless sky and it would be a waste to not take advantage of the good weather with a visit to the district. You will suggest the idea to Levi once he wakes up. 

You freshen up in the bathroom and walk out five minutes later looking like a better, more woken up version of yourself. Your steps are light on the floor as you head back, slipping under the covers once you make it to the bed. 

He doesn't move while you settle in place. You reach for the drawer of your bedside table and take out Stuck Between Three Loves by Egon Huber to continue reading. 

You aren't less disturbed by its contents, but staying for the shit show has given you many laughs, and it's fun to report the worst bits to Levi. He always follows along with his own banter. 

A new chapter starts on page sixty-five from the prince's point of view. He and the knight are still on their quest to recover the princess, moving on horseback through the unknown world in search of her. You read odd descriptions about mountains of fire and infinite plains of ice. Not once have you seen anything of the sort in all the years you have spent wandering titan territory.

Beside you, Levi shuffles, but when you look at him he's still asleep.

Back to the book, the prince and the knight take shelter from the snowstorm inside a cave, choosing to huddle close with the excuse of preserving body heat. Classic, you think. It's already paving the way for a new romance. 

Sudden movement on your peripheral vision pulls your attention back to Levi, who from the same position peers at you through the single half-lidded eye that isn't buried in the pillow. Disheveled, black hair frames his groggy expression, certain strands poking out of his head like thin spikes. 

You hold down the smile that would have otherwise formed, letting it lift only from one corner. “Good afternoon.”

He blinks. “What?” The many hours of sleep have added significant depth to his voice. He lifts his head, hair even messier where it was once pressed against the pillow. “Afternoon?” 

“It's a little past lunch time, yeah.”

“You're kidding.” 

“You were awake for three nights straight. If anything, you should have expected it.”

The sheets slide down his torso as he flips around to rest on his back, eyes straying to the ceiling. His body is relaxed, melting on the mattress. He doesn't appear to have any intentions of moving. 

You feel content about that. “Besides, we don't have work today. The commander and the others left to attend to matters in wall Sina.” 

“Yeah, I heard, but it wasn't my intention to overstay my welcome like this.”

“You're fine. Feel free to make use of the bathroom whenever you like.”

He sits up, giving you a perfect view of his back. His slack posture says a lot about how comfortable he feels in your home. The strands on the back of his head stick out the most, and upon noticing, a breathy laugh escapes you. 

Sharp as daggers, his eyes flit in your direction, brows tugged in to form a lazy glare. “What?” 

“Bed head looks good on you.”

He grumbles something under his breath and tries to pat it down, which only makes them rise even more. 

You laugh again. “You're making it worse.”

“Do you have a comb I could use?” He's rather awkward about asking. You find this adorable. 

“Yeah, help yourself to anything in the bathroom.” You hold the book open on your chest, but your eyes peer over the pages as he saunters to the bathroom. Your shirt hugs him nicely around his upper back, showing a clear outline of lean muscles. He drags his step to the door without looking behind him and locks himself inside. 

Eventually, you hear the running water and his steps, loving how it feels to experience the extra source of life he gives to your place with his presence.

You feel stupid for being so giddy about this. Not too long ago, you were desperate to escape that hospital and get back to work, but maybe you just needed the right company to appreciate an uneventful day.  

You return to the book. The next chapter cuts back to the princess' point of view. She's becoming more fond of the titan as the days go by. They eat and read together, dance in the library, go out on long walks and watch the sunset. You have a hard time picturing a three meter naked monster doing all of these things with a human. In real life, it would have long since crushed her in its palm or between its teeth. 

“Again with that book?” 

When you look up at Levi, your heart jumps with excitement. The fact that he hasn't changed out of your clothes means he isn't in a hurry to leave. 

“I can't help it,” you say. “It's a comical mess.” 

He makes his way back to the bed. “You could invest your time better with a proper comedy.” 

“And I suppose you would know which novels to get?” 

“That can be arranged. I don't read comedy, but searching for books isn't hard.” He sits on his side of the bed, then the back of his head finds the pillow. “So long as you don't continue to rot your brain with that.”

“Maybe I'm starting to grow fond of the characters. Especially Cornelius.”

“Who the hell is that?” 

“The love interest titan.”

“It has a name now? How did the princess even reach that conclusion?” 

You keep your eyes on the book even though you are only focusing on Levi. “She taught it how to read and write.”

“Yeah, because that makes sense. What reason could it have to kidnap her if it's not going to eat her?” 

“See? You're curious too.”

“Not enough to waste hours of my life reading page after page. Just skip to the end to see what happens to the princess.”

You look at him from the corner of your sight. “No way. Isn't skipping ahead illegal for book readers?”

“Where did you even get that idea? And I'd hardly call that thing a book.” 

“It has pages and words so it is.” You remember you haven't told him about the last chapter you read. “Oh, and by the way, I think the prince and the knight are falling for each other.”

“Quite the plot twist. I'm speechless.” His dry tone makes it clear he's being sarcastic. 

“Ah, look.” A particular paragraph catches your attention and you begin to read it out loud. “Her doe-like eyes connect with the sparkling blue orbs of Cornelius—”

He groans. “Good grief.”

“She's captivated beyond explanation, the book forgotten in her hands…”

“Beyond explanation? It's his damn job to describe how the character is feeling. He can't even do that much? What a sad excuse for a writer.” 

Your smile widens. “Cornelius finds the sight of her lips enthralling. Though he can't express it, the passion permeates his monstrous face…”

“This is singlehandedly the most disgusting set of words I've heard in my entire life.”

You exaggerate the way you recite the next part. “Esther returns the sentiment, her gaze brimming with adoration, a passion she barely understands herself. So many feelings of fondness and care and affection…”

“That whole thing communicates nothing because all those words are synonyms.” 

“She leans in first—” 

“Okay, I've had enough of your torture.” 

You feel the book slip from your fingers as he plucks it off your hands. “Hey!” you laugh. 

He turns on his shoulder, blocking the sight of the book from your eyes as he flips through the pages. “Let's just figure out what happens in the end so we can move on to a better book.”

“Don't spoil the ending! If we're gonna do this, we're doing it the right way.” You lean forward and try to grab the book, but Levi stretches his arm so it's far from your reach. 

“There's not a right way as far as it concerns this trash.” 

“Well, I want to read it.”

He peers at you over his shoulder, and you're almost sure there's a mischievous glint in his gaze. “So you admit to liking this.” 

“I'm curious, and you aren't much different. I bet you'll look forward to my updates from now on.”

“I only care about knowing what kind of sick-minded idea Egon Huber concocts for whatever is going on between the princess and the titan.”

“Right, so just wait until I get there.”

He maneuvers away from you to get a better hold of the book with both hands. You notice he lands at the start of the final chapter. “Here it is,” he says, then begins reading, “Esther runs up the steps of the largest tower—” 

“No.” You don't think about your next move. All you know is you don't want the ending to be spoiled. You grab the pillow below your head and hit him on the face, taking advantage of his surprise to recover your book and safeguard it against your chest. 

A couple of seconds pass before he takes it off his head. “Did you just throw a pillow at me?” He's frowning at you, but you can tell it isn't authentic. His next move is to hurl it back, and unlike your measly delivery, this one comes like a smack to the face before it falls on the floor. 

You regard him with the same version of a playful scowl. “Oh, so you choose war.”

“You made the first attack.”

One hand leaves the book on the nightstand while the other fetches the pillow. You twist around, swinging your arm with the momentum of your body so it adds speed and strength to the blow heading for his face. 

He has no trouble stopping the attack. His arms stay perfectly straight as he holds you above his face, elbows never bending, not even when your bitter feelings kick in and you start bouncing on top. He makes it seem like you have the weight of a feather. 

“You and your damn iron arms. What the hell are you made of? Seriously.” You start ramming your elbow into the pillow, aiming to chip away at the steady position of his arms. 

“Are you trying to elbow me in the face? Take it easy.” The sentence flows out with perfect control, spoken like he isn't dealing with a ruckus on the other side of the pillow. 

It's like you're pushing against a wall, but you don't relent, intent on making him at least twitch. A task, you learn soon after, that is next to impossible seeing as Levi shows you he can even keep the pillow balanced with a single hand, which he places in the center, while the other one falls back on the bed.

At first you think he's flaunting his strength to piss you off, but then a second pillow hits the side of your head, the one he grabbed from under his head, and you stop to glare at him. 

“Levi.” But you're not mad. Far from it. And you don't sound like it either. 

“You had it coming.”

You wish you were as good as him at keeping a monotonous appearance. The sight of his delight remains limited to just the quiet glint in his eyes. Yours has already bled all over your face. You're loud in your laughter, feeling like a kid all over again, and you love it. 

The pause distracts him. You feel his arm muscles loosening a tad and immediately take action. Sheer determination powers up the next attack you deliver with your elbow. 

His arm caves under your full weight and you fall on his chest, both pillows smacking him on the face. You cackle again.

“Very mature,” sounds muffled before he pushes them to your side of the bed. 

“That ought to teach you not to mess with Egon Huber's poetry.”

The huff he releases could pass for a breathy laugh. “I can no longer tell if you're being serious or not.”

Your cheeks are starting to sting, but you can't hold your lips down for longer than a second. You must be too drunk on joy because even the proximity doesn't discourage you from staying where you are. 

He isn't smiling, but the gaze he has fixed on you is weightless, free of burdens or thoughts that don't involve his present. He doesn't seem so tired anymore; groggy at best from having slept for as long as he did. 

It's not often you get to witness such a relaxed side of him, and you can't help but want to look deeper into the details that compose his gorgeous expression, every line and dent and also the bluish flecks in his irises. 

“You have really pretty eyes.” The thought escapes you without thinking. 

Levi blinks, and for a brief moment, his mouth forgets its ability to form words. “That's… sudden.” His pupils dart somewhere else for an escape that doesn't give him much privacy considering you're already so close, splayed on top of his chest. When he returns his attention to you, your stare is far more lax in nature compared to his. 

“I always get that thought. They have a nice shade of blue.” Your voice is light, almost whispered, filling only the little space between you. 

“Blue? Are you color blind? They're gray. Erwin has blue eyes.”

“Yours are silvery blue.”

He jerks a thin brow at you, questioning the authenticity of your opinion. “Is that even a color?” 

“Well, you have it, so it exists.” You cross your arms over his chest and rest your chin there, making yourself comfortable on top of him. Levi doesn't reject it. You think he even welcomes it. 

“That's a complicated way of saying gray.”

“No,” you insist. “Rocks are gray. The walls are gray. Your eyes are not gray. You would believe me if you saw them when the moon was out.”

“You mean when the white shower of moonlight is bathing them?” 

You're sure your laugh bleeds through the walls of your quarters. “Casting a celestial glow on your orbs,” you continue it. 

He groans as if the absurdity of those words has impaled his ears. “Okay, that's enough about my eyes.”

“I could write a lot of cheesy poetry about them in the style of Egon Huber's writing no problem.”

“No, thanks.”

You fall into a comfortable silence after that, unable to tear your eyes off of each other. He's staring pure warmth into you with his gentle regard. You could melt into a puddle right where you are and be more than pleased to spend the entire day without moving a muscle. 

Your lids flutter shut, welcoming that idea. 

“You have pretty eyes too.”

Eyes that snap open. “What? Oh…” You lift your chin off his chest, cornered now that you've been put on the spot without a chance to hide even if you turned your face the other way. 

You always wondered what he thought about them. An inkling told you he must have appreciated them to a certain extent, if his long and heartfelt looks have been of any indication, but being told they're actually pretty hammers your composure harder than you expected to be dealing with. 

Levi stirs, clicking his tongue, not any less bashful. You might as well be a couple of kids interacting. “The hell are you getting flustered about? You're the one always saying stuff like this.” He sounds defensive, fighting to sustain the thin layer that is left of his armor. 

“Yeah, but you don't. Caught me off guard is all.”  

The pause that follows isn't as comfortable as the previous one. There's a lot of unspoken feelings lined between your eyes.

To your surprise, he's the first one to step out of his comfort zone. “Does it bother you?” 

You trace absent-minded patterns on his chest with a nimble finger to stay busy. “Hm?” 

“That I don't say a lot of things often.” 

“Sometimes I get curious about what you might be thinking, but it doesn't bother me.” 

The silence charges with his intense desire to speak. You can tell without looking at him that he is racking his brain to link some ideas in the hopes of forming something coherent.  

“You—you're easy to spot… in a crowd.” His eyes blink every which way except towards the recipient of those words. “You always stand out—well, in my eyes at least. It's—you…” 

A chuckle escapes your upturned mouth. You pull back to sit beside him on your knees, warmth flooding you. “It's fine, Levi.” 

The urge to kiss him is already so strong. 

“You're too much—but in a good sense, I mean. You're nice. Well, pretty—uh, beautiful.”

Your heart bounces around in your chest, too overjoyed. “Levi.”

“What,” shoots out in that same second. He's on edge, prepared to be ridiculed for making a fool of himself. 

It doesn't come. Instead, your eyes tell him he's the most beautiful man you have ever met. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. “Kiss you deeper. Would you like that?” 

His eyes are lidded, frown tender on his face, about to dissolve at any moment. A new spell permeates the room, one loaded with a desire that magnetizes you to each other. 

Levi sits up. “Yes,” blows over your mouth right before you're all over him, lips meshing like they belong only with the other. He meets you halfway with his arms sprawled behind him to keep himself as straight as your weight on him allows. 

Despite the urgency, you're mindful about carrying him through the motions. The kiss moves with your lead, establishing a soft pace Levi can follow as he leisurely adapts to the feeling of kneading your lips. 

It's already wet and noisy, stark within the privacy of your room, but that doesn't seem to deter him. Against all intention of keeping it light, it is Levi whose urgency chases after your mouth to ensure there's not a thread of space preventing full connection with you. 

Your noses slide together, the exchange of air happening below them, where your mouths push and pull and heave hot breaths. The smallest of sounds escapes him, something delicate that gets peeled off his chest, and it stirs your insides with a mix of longing and so much fondness for this precious man.

You catch his lower lip and suck it. Levi's needy reponse parts his mouth and you take that chance to slip inside, dragging your tongue against his own. 

His first reaction is breaking the kiss to make room for a tiny gasp, but he is quick to reach for your nape before you get the wrong idea. The warm touch of his hand pulls you forward, lips meeting again, and this time, he plunges his tongue inside first. 

It's sloppy, hungry and desperate. It's a clash of teeth and smacking sounds. It's trust and a connection that runs deep. He steals the breath out of you with each stroke, sucks your life energy and gives you his in return. You can't tell where you end and he begins anymore. It's like you're one being with the same thoughts and feelings. 

You push in, no longer wanting but needing the velvet heat of his mouth, and the one arm behind him gives out. He falls on the bed with you on top, lips hovering over each other as you support yourself with both hands on either side of his head. 

Pants escape him in successive bursts from an open mouth. He's putty on the bed, wanton eyes begging for your return. His furrowed brows paint a helpless frown on his face. 

Goosebumps rouse on your skin. You could feed off this sight and not need anything else in life. “Levi,” you breathe. “I think… we could try going all the way.” 

The idea doesn't set in at first. He's lost in your mouth, staring intently as if trying to drag you forward with his gaze alone, but then half of that lust scatters and surprise sets in. 

He meets your eyes. “You would want that? Why?” 

You pull a leg over to his other side and make yourself comfortable on his pelvis. The small tent in his pants pokes you between your folds. “What do you mean why?”

More of his daze seeps out, attention now centered around the conversation. “I hear it isn't pleasant. I—well, that only the man gets to...” he trails off. 

You hum, understanding where he's coming from. The underground doesn't seem like a place that would treat intimacy as anything other than a means to an end. 

Gentle fingers card through his hair. “Only if the man doesn't do a good job pleasing his partner. You'll be fine.”

He isn't reassured. “Will you bleed?” 

“I don't think so.” You push some bangs out of his eyes. “Maybe a little if—” 

He rises in one swift movement, and you slide from his pelvis to his thighs, knees hugging both sides of his waist. “I don't like that.”

“Levi, it's really not as bad as you think—” 

“My mother was a prostitute.” You can tell the revelation escapes him without thinking. His eyes grow wide before he steers them elsewhere in the room. 

You can only watch and be patient. Any conversation is hard for him, specially when it concerns a private topic, but you will give him the space to do it if that is his wish. 

A quiet puff of air announces his surrender. “She never looked well. I didn't understand it at the time. There was blood. All the women there were not okay.”

It's hard to come up with the right words to say back. His mother is a delicate subject from what little you have come to understand. 

“I see,” slides out tender and quiet as you look at him. “Thank you for telling me. There's no need to push it. We can do something else. I was actually thinking about visiting the town to have a late lunch there.”

At least half of that response doesn't make it to his ear. His thoughts linger on the topic you brought up. “Would it really not hurt?” 

You slide your caress from his head to the side of his face, passing over warm skin. “Not if I'm wet enough. You just gotta prep me right like you already know how to.” Your hand skims over his shoulder and travels down his arm. 

“Okay.” He still looks unsure. “What about precautions?”

“Can't remember the last time I bled. Levi, we don't have to—”

“Is that normal? I thought it was a monthly occurrence.”

Your shoulders bounce with the amused breath you let out. “Wow, most men don't even know that much.”

“I had to clean Isabel's sheets every now and then.”

He's such a gentle person, and he always has been. You didn't create a new version of him. You just pulled it back out into the open. 

“A doctor would probably tell me to destress, live a simpler life, sleep more and eat better, but that will not happen any time soon.” You continue rubbing along his arm, keeping your reassurance consistent. “There's always the option to pull out before you come.”

“Okay.”

“We can leave it for another time, of course. I think that would be better.”

“No, I'm fine with it.” He presses his lips together, baring himself before your eyes so you know how much it matters to him. “Just… don't let it hurt you.”

“Got it.”

He nods, more to himself than anything else. “So I prep you first.” It's a comment that seeks further confirmation. 

So you give it to him coupled with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” 

You lean back on your calves at the same time he rises to accommodate a pillow against the headboard. His hands reach for your body, urging you to take his place and lie down. You comply with his soft pull and scoot up so the back of your head touches the pillow. Your legs press flat on the mattress to welcome him in as he swings a knee to your other side and crawls closer. 

His eyes are fervent again. He marvels at his treasure in silence, quiet pants escaping him. It's a look that tells you he sees someone far too divine to call a mere mortal. 

Desire is already pooling between your legs. You press your thighs together and release a wayward breath that is then sucked into the start of another kiss. 

He moves faster now, lips melding with a desperate urge to connect again. His arms bend down until your bodies meet and there's not a breeze that could slither between them. Your arms come around his shoulder blades to invite more of the weight that crushes you to the mattress. 

Your tongues slide together, following a pace that lends itself to savor every bit of detail like there is all the time in the world to kiss each other. In a way, it feels like it. You don't have to hide or make things quick. The privacy of your quarters allows you to take your time and be diligent with every move. 

It's so much. His mouth is warm. His breaths are twice as heated. His body is burning and his tongue is scalding you. It's like you're drowning in a fever. Your head feels light and there's only air where there were once thoughts. 

You get an unwanted break from all those sensations when Levi moves his mouth to skim along your jaw. Your skin is already so tender, susceptible to the slightest of touches. It's like he flipped it around and left the most sensitive layers out into the open. 

You moan, tilting your head up to expose more neck to him that he doesn't hesitate to worship. Your breasts bulge up with the soft arch of your spine, and he worms his hand between you and him to catch it in his heated palm. 

His lips remain gentle until he gets to the section where your collarbone meets your throat, an area that can be easily hidden under clothes. He grazes the hollow of your neck with his teeth, applying more pressure, and then buries it under his warm tongue. 

You arch your head so much your eyes find the headboard. A whine slips out through the flow of your breaths, placed higher than usual on your range.

Against your pelvis, Levi throbs. 

You feel his heartbeat over your own, as if they were both in a haste to claw their way out and finally meet. Your hands split paths. One brushes down to the subtle arch of his back and the other sinks all fingers into his dark hair. 

Levi arrives at the collar of your cotton shirt and places his lips there, entertaining you with a new mark while his hands move down for the hem that has bunched up below your breasts. He rises on his knees to pull it over your head, and you help him by lifting your arms. 

It's always so slow with him. The garments never come off all in one go. He takes his time removing each piece and is painfully thorough between stops to continue pleasing you. 

Granted, you're the only one he has ever had for guidance. 

The air perking your nipples switches for the velvet silk of his mouth. Levi lavishes one breast with his tongue while the other one is molded to the shape of his hand. You yearn for the hard-on that has left its place between your legs. The grip you previously had on his back slides up to join the other on his head. 

He wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks, waking up the nerves that react like he's injecting light sparks into your system. 

Your back arches and a moan worms out through the knot in your throat. “Levi.” 

He releases you with a light pop just to push out, “Shit, that was too much.” Unable to meet your eyes, he moves them to your other nipple and leans down again, catching it with his mouth. 

You loll your head to the side and mewl behind pursed lips. Your gaze pleads to the ceiling for mercy it is incapable of giving. 

It's a nice feeling, though—handing over the reins, leaving the outcome in someone else's hands. You feel comfortable doing this because the one taking you through it is no one else but Levi and you trust him. You trust him with your life. When you're not his captain, you're still the person he cherishes and respects. 

He may as well be kissing a line of fire down your stomach. His hands take care of your breasts, kneading and spreading as he continues his descent. Lips come around a patch of skin just above the waistline of your slacks, and the small of your back jerks off the bed when he sucks it. 

You expel his name with a sharp breath. 

He traces a diagonal line down the side of your waist, likely following a bruise imprinted by the harnesses. “So sweet.” The words sound croaky and strained. “I can tell you're already so wet.”

He's right on the mark about that. Your hole is dripping, getting ready to take every inch of him inside. His terms were clear and your cunt is eager to provide. 

He helps you out of your pants. You lift your waist so he can get them down your thighs, helplessly watching as the distance between you increases. It's like he's taking an essential part of you with him to the edge of the bed, where he slips the pants off. You know you're being dramatic, but need doesn't wait for rationality. 

His touch zaps you when he brushes your pelvis to hook his fingers on the sides of your underwear. He drags them down your legs, and you feel your wet folds breathe when it gets taken off, already sensitive to the cool atmosphere in the room. 

It's only the second time you've been fully naked before him. He's still in his clothes while you're partially dumbed down and unrecognizable, but it's hard to care. Levi's hungry gaze and wanton expressions make it hard to care. You feel him walking his wide eyes down your body, infusing you with the fervent embers that spill from his stare. 

He loves it. He fucking loves everything. 

“Shit, Levi,” you moan while squirming on the bed. “Come back already. I need to kiss you.”

Summoned by his goddess, Levi climbs up in an instant. “I could kiss you for hours,” he murmurs. 

“Yes.” You bury your fingers in his hair and pull him to your lips. Your noses nudge and your teeth knock with the urgency of your approach, but it's not enough to deter either of you from slipping inside the other's mouth. 

You could kiss him until your lips go raw and your tongue falls off. You could hold him in your arms until his heat burns you to a pile of ash on the floor. You could stay pinned on this bed forever and renounce everything. 

He's your new addiction. 

Such a gorgeous man. The taste of his mouth is clean and neutral with just the slightest hint of mint from your toothpaste. He smells like fresh linen sheets and the soap you use to wash your hands. He has a perfect blend of your scent and his. You bet it's all over your bed too. 

The flat of his palm skims down your torso. His touch is warm and you can't stop your body from twitching in response. Your fists tighten on his hair, meshing lips where there's barely any space to continue doing so. The outline of his mouth is wet with your saliva and you feel that yours is no different. 

His hand slips between your thighs and you both moan into the same air. 

“You're wet,” leaves him as a strangled sound, muffled by your impatient kisses. “Fuck, you're so wet.”

“So ready for you,” you breathe. 

“Yeah? Let me see.” Levi sounds so endeared. He worms his pointer and middle finger between the lips and impales your hole at such a slow pace you can hear the thick squelch of your cum. 

Your spine lifts off the bed. “Ah—oh, fuck. Why… the fuck are you always so… slow?” 

“I need to feel everything.” 

Your walls couldn't be opening a clearer path for his fingers. He slides through them like he's brushing past pure silk. Your thighs spread open for him, adding to the stretch. 

“Shit,” is a shaky exhale. He breaks away from your mouth to watch his fingers disappear inside you. “You're really going to take me inside?” 

“All of you,” you moan, unable to keep your head still. “Every fucking inch.”

He answers with the choked up sound of your name like he's being tortured. 

“My pussy will stay so tight for you.” You stop to gasp. His fingers start pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. “Oh, hell. A-are you trying to make me come?” 

“Just once,” he breathes, and when you meet his eyes, they're already looking at you, buried deep under glassy layers of lust. “Please.”

You whine. “You said that last time. It sure lasted a while.” 

“Just one time.” He plunges his fingers down to the knuckles, poking hot bliss into that specific spot you like so much. 

“Fuck.” Your eyes screw shut. 

“Yes?”

“Ah—shit. You can do whatever you want with me.”

He falls against your mouth again. The smack of your lips melds with the filthy noises he draws out from your sopping walls. 

Your legs pull tight around his waist, seeking the support that ties you to reality. Your mind is drifting, lost in the sensations he brings with his fingers. Your room disappears. The walls vanish. The whole world falls into a void. You only have the bed underneath you and Levi on top, pleasing you like he was born to serve your cunt. 

“I… want you,” you say through clenched teeth. “Want you so badly.”

“You have me.” His thumb presses on your clitoris, pleasure filling your entire body as you recoil. 

“M-mine.”

“Yours,” he promises, and then he's kissing you again. 

It starts slowly, but you override those intentions with all the pent up desire that's bulging in you. Your lips are swollen and sensitive, wet with the continuous back and forth of his tongue, yet you seek out more. He takes your lessons from earlier and nibbles your bottom lip, his prize coming in the form of a desperate, little whine. 

Below, his fingers pull out just enough to add a third one, then he thrusts them in again. 

You release him to tilt your face up and groan towards the ceiling. 

“You're doing so well,” he whispers as if he's soothing a frail woman. 

Your walls pulse in need of his cock, and it's fucking agonizing. “Ah, shut—shut up. Fuck, no, wait.” You don't know what you're spouting anymore. Neither do you know how you're feeling. Your arms cross over his shoulders to bury his face in your neck. “No—I mean, don't stop.”

Levi obeys, just as he always does. “So damn pretty.” He kisses those words on your collarbone and seals them with his teeth so they remain on your skin. “My fingers are ready to make you come.”

Feeling the strength gradually leave you, your thighs part open on the bed. Levi grabs one for himself and pulls it up your side to the extent your flexibility allows. 

You accept the extra inches of stretch with an euphoric cry. His fingers prod even deeper into you, nudging into a sensitive spot that you would think was the rear of your uterus if you didn't know better. 

Your spine arches. You have to let go of his frame to fists the sheets, not wanting to claw his back. “Levi.”

He presses his forehead on the bed next to your shoulder and releases a weak sound. “Shit, you can't say my name like that.”

“I—fucking can't…” You force your eyes open and gasp. You're there, but it's not coming fast enough. “Levi, help.” Just one more push. You're desperate to get it done. 

He thumbs your clitoris in quick circles with a dense touch that is overwhelming in the best sense possible. Your cunt pulses, raw pleasure spreading to every corner in your body. Your heart is rampaging inside like it wants to escape. 

His other hand lets go of your thigh and rises to twist your nipple. Such is your sensitivity that it feels like he's touching directly into the nerves.  

You can't keep up when his lips fall back over yours. With half of your brain struggling to get you through the disaster of sensations in your system, you let your mouth fall open so he does with it whatever he likes. 

His fingers inside you spread open, testing how far your walls can stretch to accommodate them, and another sound slips from your mouth, shattering between urgent kisses. Encouraged by your reaction, he starts to scissor them. 

Levi licks physical heat into your mouth with slow and sensual strokes. His touch could melt you into a puddle beneath him. You're drunk on his taste and the warm breaths blowing on your face. He pulls his tongue back to intertwine your mouths, swallowing the moan that tumbles out of you when he catches your lower lip between the soft press of his teeth. 

He is too addicting. You're getting drugged by his touch right before his eyes. 

Utter bliss rises and rises and rises. It becomes so intense you have to swallow a cry that would have surely made anyone nearby think a murder was taking place in your home. You feel your noses brushing as you tilt your head away to bury the sounds that spill out of you into the pillow. 

You swell around his fingers. Your chest bulges with the hard breaths you take and you feel your toes crack when they curl. “F-fuck...”

Your orgasm comes like a punch to the spine that lifts it off the bed, followed by another one that catapults you back to it. The intense amalgamation rides on the grounds of Levi's fingers pumping in and out of you. He carries your pleasure and stretches it to its absolute limit, squeezing every last drop of it for you to indulge. 

And you drink it like a starved whore, rolling into his palm and mewling down on the pillow. Your hands rise around his back and settle there in desperate need of an anchor. His frame is perfectly steady, of course. You can feel his quiet eyes marveling nearby, pushing more heat into your body. 

The second that delirious feeling borders on pain and your pelvis inches back, his movements come to an immediate stop. 

You're heaving for breath, unable to tear your face from the pillow. 

“All good?” he checks in. 

“Yes, sweetness,” slides from your mouth like liquid, brain too exhausted to filter anything. You feel too good. Your cunt is breathing again, still pulsing, and your legs are lax on the bed. 

But you're not satiated. You squint your eyes open to peek at the bulge between his legs, and the sight alone carves another empty pit in the bottom of your stomach. 

“Are we finally fucking or what?” your slur, blinking slowly at him. 

He's cleaning his fingers with a handkerchief as he looks at you. The delighted glint in his eyes is so quiet and bashful, barely showing, as if any kind of overwhelming excitement could disrespect you. His frown is absent, a neutral look replacing it. 

“Only if you're sure.” Even through his voice, the expectation stays tame, betraying the eager look that you know wants to spill into the open. He will not let loose until you prove him wrong about his fears. 

You gather yourself to sit up, Levi pulling back so your faces don't smash into each other. Your hands on his biceps urge him to switch positions with you. “On your back.” Your order doesn't have too much power. The residues of your orgasm still cloud the connection between your brain and your voice. “I'll take over from here.”

Although he shifts according to your guidance until he's sitting on the bed, doubt keeps him from relaxing into the pillow despite the gentle push of your hands. “Isn't the man expected to lead?” 

You will not subject him to any kind of pressure for his first time. The unknown territory already has him on edge. You just want him to enjoy it and feel safe enough to let loose. 

“Good thing we're us.” You take advantage of his current position to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it up. “Everyone else can go fuck themselves however they want.” 

The gentle hum that barely passes for a chuckle suggests he remembers his own words in your response. He raises his arms to help you take the garment off, revealing perfect muscles underneath. 

Your eyes salivate at the sight, open and unabashed about your attraction to him. You will never get tired of admiring the subtle dips and ridges of his body. The lines that section his torso and arms are all there, not an extra ounce of fat blurring them. His many scars don't hinder the sight at all. If anything, they seem to only enhance it. Even the ODM gear bruises. 

You slide nimble fingers over the horizontal mark on his chest. His skin bristles in response to the contact. “Aren't you adjusting them too tight?” you ask. “Mine don't look anywhere near as pronounced as yours.”

“I've always done them like this. No point in changing it now. It might hinder my accuracy.”

You follow the patterns that cross down the sides of his torso. He sucks his stomach in, quieting a hitch that would have otherwise escaped him. His eyes stray downward, unable to tear themselves from your naked body and the bruises he left behind. 

“You could at least use some salve,” you say. “Though I can't deny they look good on you.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “I was worried you'd find me mental if I said anything about yours.”

The side of your mouth quirks up. “You can say anything to me, pretty one.” Your hands move up the center of his torso to perch on his chest, right over his frantic heartbeat. “Will you lie down for me?” 

He succumbs to the soft push and lands with his head on the pillow, lidded eyes never leaving you. “How are we doing this?” 

You pat his cheek. “I don't want you stressing about anything. Just sit back and enjoy.”

“But I—” 

“You'll have plenty of chances to return the favor later. I'll have a fun time regardless. I always do.”

He allows himself to relax a little. “Okay.”

“Can I kiss your throat?” 

His slitted eyes squint even further, knees rubbing together ever so slightly. “Please.”

You press your palms on the mattress and dip your face into the hollow of his neck. 

He tilts his head up to expose everything to you, a sharp inhale revealing how much your mouth affects him. His whole body trembles when you nibble over the knot in his throat. “Shit.” 

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Is this why you didn’t want me here before? Because you're so sensitive?” 

“I—I had… no idea.” The words get squeezed out of his throat. His next gasp is twice as loud as the first one, reacting to the placement of your teeth on his pulse point. “Ah, fuck. You—you already know all the spots.” 

“Of course I do.” You brush over goosebumps on your way to the back of his ear. “You like it here too, right?”

He moans, twisting the side of his face in the opposite direction so you can reach every inch of space. 

“If only I could place marks,” you purr. “Too bad no one can know you already belong to someone.”

“You,” he slurs without the need to be asked. 

You hum. “That's exactly right.” Your tongue comes out to wet the skin, dragging from there to the cartilage of his ear, where your teeth tease and nibble. 

Levi lolls his head up and down, already in a drunken stupor. His arms stay heavy and useless beside him. 

“Entertain my curiosity,” you whisper into his ear, and Levi can't help but shiver. “I always wondered if you often took notice of the marks I left on you last time.”

“Yes,” he breathes. 

“Did you look at them?” 

“Too much.”

“Maybe you can help me install a few of them back.”

Levi is eager to comply. “You left like five on my neck.”

Your lips part with a chuckle. “I'm afraid we'll have to skip that for now.” You scoot down on your knees, brushing your plump lips down his throat and to his collarbone. “What about here?” 

A quiet moan slithers through his teeth. “There was one… a little to the left.”

You follow his direction. “Here?” 

“Yes—” The word crumbles when you slot your puckered mouth against the hollow spot and suck his warm skin. 

Since he marks too easily, it doesn't take more than a few seconds of your attention to leave a small patch of red color in place.

“Let's move down to your chest,” you say. “How many did you have here?” 

“Maybe four.”

“I think I remember one of those.” Your mouth traces the long scar cutting a jagged line down his sternum. “Here?” 

“Yes,” he breathes.

You grab the skin between a light press of teeth, then your lips close around it to suck a deeper bruise. The sequence ends with a loving kiss before you move on. “What did you have on your torso?” 

“You skipped to my pelvis.”

“That's a shame. I won't make that mistake again, though.” You slide over to the center of a mark made by the harnesses and plant your lips there. 

His chest bounces with the hurried pants he pushes in and out of his lungs. You revel in the strained sounds of his breathing while your mouth works him up. 

“So pelvis.” Your hands find the waistband of his slacks. His fervent eyes are already boring into yours when you look up. “How many?”

“Three.”

You drag the pants down with his boxers, shifting down on your knees to the edge of the bed so you can get the last layers off. “You're leaking so much you left a wet mark on the slacks.”

“Sorry.”

“Like I even care. Too busy looking at your pretty thing.”

His dick is rock-hard and resting upright on his stomach. The canal of veins that stretch along the length of his underside are fully exposed to your eyes, flushed cockhead leaking drops of pre-cum on his skin. 

“What spot did you like the most on your pelvis, pretty one?”

Half of his face is buried into the pillow. From your position, you can only see the clench of his teeth. “Just where my thigh begins.”

You crawl on your hands and knees, mouth falling over a high point on his thigh. “Here?” 

His leg twitches. “Higher,” he croaks.

You drag your mouth to the crease where his pelvis meets his thigh. 

“In.”

You slide closer to his center, right beside the few wiry hairs that surround the base of his dick. “Ah, yes. I think I remember now.”

His back arches in response to your lips falling exactly where he wants them. An airy hah shoots into the ceiling, laden with a coarse sound that gets torn from his chest. 

Your droopy eyes flick up to find his sharp jawline pointed towards the ceiling, pretty dick throbbing on the corner of your sight. You see the knot in his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

The incredible angle was well worth your time, but you're too desperate to prolong the foreplay any longer. You can feel your juices dripping down your inner thighs, a testament to all the time your walls have gone ignored. 

You hold his cock in a fist and feel the hot skin wrapped tight around the entire length of him. 

Levi unfurls before your eyes, moaning even louder when you start to drag your palm up and down his shaft. It's like his eyes want to bulge out with how wide he opens them towards the ceiling. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “You're gonna make me come now?” 

“I'm too impatient for that.” You gather the cum on his tip and spread it down to the base. “I'm trying to get your dick wet and ready for me.”

“Shit.”

“Just look at how thick you are. Gonna tear me open, hm?” 

Levi fists the sheets, ragged sounds ripping from his lungs. You may as well be squeezing the air out of him with your pumps on his dick. He's heaving like a man who's trying not to drown. 

His pelvis chases after your moving fist with a mind of its own, back arching off the bed when he slumps his head deeper into the pillow. You watch the lean plains of his abdomen bulging with every fast inhale; the flexing muscles on his arms from anchoring himself to the bed; the little nub in his throat that flicks up and down whenever he swallows a sound that would have otherwise been too loud. 

You gather more of the precum that wells over on his slit and lather his entire dick like the work of a butter knife on bread. “I'd say you're ready now.” Your wet hand rises before your mouth, tongue coming out to lick your fingers clean. You are well acquainted with his tangy flavor by now. 

Levi pays close attention, just as he always does when you're indulging in his taste and accepting every part and drop of his scarred self like he's deserving of his own throne in Mitras. His stare brims with heavy emotions you would mistake for pain if you didn't already know he has a habit of frowning and squeezing his eyes shut when it gets too much. It's endearing and your heart flutters every time. 

You crawl on your hands and knees to hover over him. His longer strands of hair are splattered on the pillow, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. He opens his eyes to peer at you through the narrow gap of his glassy silvers, summoned by the hand you use to cup his warm cheek. 

“Still okay?” you check in, words brimming with softness. 

“Yeah.”

“I'm going to put it in now.”

“If anything hurts you,” his voice sounds like it's stuck in the back of his throat, “you will stop, right?” 

“Yes. You can tell me to stop regardless of the reason.” You give him a small window of seconds to add anything, but since his lips stay sealed, you reach between your thighs for his dick. 

Levi sucks his stomach in when your hand wraps around him. You hear the tiniest of moans escaping him. He's slicing up your hand with the fervent edge of his stare. 

You look away from his eyes to angle him against your entrance. A sharp inhale enters him when the tip of his cock kisses the outer layer of slick. His whole body tenses, but he can't stop staring in spite of looking like he could pass out at any moment. 

You're surprised by how good it feels to have him slide through the first inches of flesh. His thick cock forces your walls apart, carving a heated path inside you. The moan that escapes you gets trampled under the near cry that catapults into the open from the man lying helplessly below you. 

“You're—ah.” His entire face pinches with an enticing mix of torture and ecstasy, wanton brows pushed upwards. He anchors himself to the bed with a knuckle-white grip. “You're, hah—so warm. Shit.” 

His length gets thicker the more of him you get through your walls, and you're forced to pull some of him back out. It doesn't hurt, but as promised, you take action at the slightest sign of discomfort, leaving only his flushed cockhead inside. A thin layer of your slick lathers part of his length, proof of the inches you have already swallowed into your cunt. 

“Fuck—fuck, I can't…” He rolls his head up, but the innate urge to watch everything forces his eyes back to the hypnotic view. “Shit, you're going to kill me.”

Your lungs produce a breathy chuckle. “You need to stop?” 

“Hell no.”

With his permission, you take him inside again, this time dragging more of him through your walls. It's like he's grazing directly against your nerves, hard and wet silk filling your hungry cunt. 

“Levi,” you moan. 

He is about to lose himself, but in an impressive exhibition of self control, he keeps his hips affixed to the mattress, only expelling the need to move with his frantic arms dragging back and forth on the bed. A needy whine slides out from his parted lips, a sound that is delicate and so high-strung. Hearing him makes your walls pulse around him. 

“You're doing so good, sweetness,” you breathe, matching how delirious he is. “So good.”

You bend your legs to take him further inside. There seems to be no end to his length at the pace you're going. He pierces through rings of flesh until at last your ass settles on his pelvis, the tip of his cock nudging a delicate spot deep within your walls. 

He's still gawking at the point where your bodies mesh into one, appearing to be enthralled by the idea of his dick disappearing in you. 

“So thick for me,” you slur. “Levi, you're perfect.” 

The shift of your hips interrupts him from saying something back. He tilts his head up and groans at the ceiling. His hands scurry for your waist to prevent further movement. “Fuck—wait, please. I… I can't—it's too tight. I'll come. Don't let me come so fast.”

“It's okay if you don't last. We're way past first impressions now.”

“Please,” he insists, squinting at you with lust-filled eyes. “Don't let me. Not yet.”

You splay a hand on his chest and reach with the other to brush his sticky bangs out of the way. He's heaving like you've been edging him for hours. His grip on you serves as an anchor that keeps him somewhat grounded. 

You wait for him, your walls pulsing. Your touch brushes down the expanse of his torso, passing over tight muscles and dented scars. 

You don't know how Levi keeps making every leap you take with him so unique and memorable. Just being connected to him offers a feeling of plenitude no other partner has ever given you. 

He looks so mesmerizing when he's struggling—with bliss running deep through face, twisting it into a tight expression of narrow eyes and clenched teeth. You instantly get addicted to the frail and passionate frown that forms. 

You love that he trusts you with this intimate part of him, that you're the first and only one who has seen it. You love that he's so gentle and bashful and inexperienced. You love that he's Levi and no one else. 

“Okay,” he breathes. “I'm good. Nothing's hurting?” 

“You feel perfect.” You grab his hand and guide it from your waist to the lowest point in your stomach. With a soft press, the skin sinks under his palm, and Levi nearly chokes on a sharp inhale. “Look how deep you've made it. Your pretty dick is bulging out.”

Levi pushes down a bit more, chasing the feeling of his dick inside you. Your name sounds so sweet when he moans it. “You're already making this so difficult.”

“Can I move?” you pant. 

“Please.” 

His thick cock slides out. You hold your weight with your palms spread out on his chest, then your pelvis eases back down, savoring the new stretch with a slow descent. 

Levi gives you a beautiful arch coupled with a whine you had never heard before. If you hadn't seen it come from his mouth, you wouldn't have believed it was him. It's the first time you have witnessed his pitch sliding so high up his range. 

You lift yourself up and ram into him again. 

“Ah.”  His little noises might end you before his cock does. He sounds so helpless and frail, something no greater threat or enemy has ever achieved. 

You build a soft tempo so he isn't overwhelmed, though that doesn't work too well seeing as Levi is squirming and wailing like you're bouncing with your full weight on his cock. 

“Fuck—wait.”

“I don't care if you come, sweetness,” you reassure again. Nevertheless, you stop to avoid giving him insecurities. You don't want him to sulk over coming in less than a minute. As an alternative, you roll your hips in, and although there's no major friction, his cockhead nudges into the depths of your walls. 

The back of his hand smacks into the headboard and immediately turns around to seize the edge with a firm grip. Ragged breaths tear from his lungs, and your body oscillates on top of his heaving stomach. 

His mouth is slack, tongue almost out. Even with his lids pinched shut, you can tell his pupils are slithering towards the back of his head. The euphoric look plastered over his face is making you lose your mind. 

He gasps again. “You—you're squeezing me. You're fucking squeezing me.”

“Because you look breathtaking, that's why.” You let his dick slide halfway out as you approach him, seeking the velvet heat of his mouth. “Come on,” you summon. “Kiss.”

Eyes still closed, he finds your chin by accident, tongue tracing an upward, wet line until it finally slips through your lips and locates its partner. His hold persists on the headboard while his other hand reaches for the back of your neck. 

He takes the saliva in your mouth for himself, residues dripping down the corners of his lips. The Levi you know is lost under a fog that has left him intoxicated and past the point of recognition. This version does not waver in the face of messiness. He just accepts and accepts and accepts. 

The tip of his cock eases in and out with the subtle push of his pelvis. Needy mewls slide out from both sides and clash right where your mouths meet, bringing to life a perfect blend of your voices. 

You take your lips from him on your reprieve, the need to fuck yourself on his cock too strong to continue ignoring. Levi's hand glides from your nape to a breast. So tender and raw is your skin that even the gentle kneading makes you recoil into your shoulders. 

“Your cock is… hitting me so deep—god.” You throw your head back and arch your spine. “Can you feel it, Levi?” 

“Yes,” he murmurs, still in a trance. His wide eyes follow every move you make, however insignificant or small, to save the image of you fucking him with all its glorious detail in his memory. 

Sparks fly when he catches your taut nipple between two fingertips and twists it. You flinch and slot back, recovering your balance with both hands spread behind you on his thighs. Your breasts bulge out in his direction, the curve of your back even more pronounced in your position. 

“Fucking hell,” sounds mangled from his mouth. “Stay like that for a bit, please.”

You moan, inching your hips up and down to keep the friction going. He bends his legs at the knees so you can slump your back against his thighs and take a small break. His second hand joins the other to split his attention between both of your breasts. 

The new angle takes his tip to the back of your cunt with every thrust. You don't know what spot he's hitting, but it's making you see stars. Your hand rises to settle above the one holding your left breast. You just keep your touch there, encouraging a stronger squeeze he then mimics on your other tit. 

“I love fucking you, Levi.” You slur the words with half a functioning brain. 

“You can fuck me all the damn times you want,” he moans back.

Every time he bottoms out, it's the most satisfying pleasure. Not just his dick, but also the feeling of having his pelvis on yours with no sliver of space in between. It's like he belongs there—in you. 

“Yours,” you groan. “I'm yours.”

Heavy pants slither through the clench of his teeth. “... mine.” The response is laden with insecurity, and it comes out sounding almost like a query in need of confirmation. 

“Yes.”  You lean forward and place your hands on his chest to lift yourself higher, then you thrust in and get him even deeper. 

His legs twitch and press flat on the bed, almost with a kick. “Shit.”

You fight through the exhaustion to keep the pace going. His hot dick slides in and out of your walls, and your juices are spilling all over your inner thighs and his pelvis. 

Even while dealing with your pleasure, you still find the time to marvel at how precious he is. 

He's a mess on the bed, coal-black hair spread around his head in tousled waves, half-lidded eyes drifting towards the ceiling. His grip on the sheets keeps him secured to the mattress, every ounce of focus centered on his pelvis as it snaps up to meet your thrusts. 

Levi pinches his eyes and shudders. “Hah, no—ah, fucking… shit. I-I can't…” 

He's not going to last. 

“You can come whenever you want, sweetness. Don't hold it in.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Shush.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, tasting a blend of saliva and sweat. “You're doing so good, pretty one. So, so good.”

“You haven't come.”

“I don't care.” 

He's out with a wet sound and your fist takes over from there. You keep it fast, consistent and heavy-clad on his dick, gliding with the thick layer of cum dripping from his flushed length. 

Levi is close to hyperventilating, shoving moans and quiet whines through those breaths. “Tighter. Tighter. Your cunt was so tight—do it tighter.”

You squeeze him, his cock so hard your fingers can barely press into the skin. 

“Hah—more, more, more.” His head lolls sideways in a haste. It's as if a screw has gotten loose somewhere in his neck. 

You inject more pressure into your fist. Your thumb layers over his flushed tip, where even more precum leaks from the slit. 

He buckets his pelvis off the bed, an open-mouthed cry spilling into the roof. His deep croak drops like a rock into the pit of your stomach. You adjust your pace so it falls into step with the desperate thrusts of his pelvis as he fucks the start of his orgasm into your fist. 

His breathing is manic. His dick is hard and scorching hot. The sounds he releases don't have even a trace of his normal speaking voice left. Your eyes admire while your hand helps him through it. 

Tremors take his body hostage. He squirms on the bed like you were zapping him with your fingertips, spine snapping up and down to expel the burst of adrenaline welling up in his body. 

His cum spills between the web of your fingers and all over his stomach. You continue to stroke him until a small whine tells you to stop. 

He's out of breath, limbs hanging by his sides like they're no longer an extension of himself. The start of his afterglow shows in a gentle expression of euphoric appeal. The soft crinkle at the corner of his eye hints at a possible smile he could be hiding into the pillow. 

Your heart swells with happiness, endeared by the sight. “Levi.” You just want to say his name... or maybe have his attention so you can look into his gorgeous gaze again. 

He peers at you through one droopy eye, and in the next second, like he has suddenly remembered something important, his body hurries to sit up, arms reaching for your waist. 

“What—” It happens too fast. You switch positions and fall back on the bed under his weight, mouth parting in a round shape when his finger finds your bundle of nerves and presses there. 

“You're going to come too,” he breathes.

It's sticky between you from both the cum and the sweat, but your legs circle around him to crush him to you, seeking to erase every breath of space that could be left. His soft dick presses against your abdomen, still warm from the attention you gave him. 

Now it's his turn to bring you over the edge, and Levi takes the task seriously. His finger is relentless, riding the same wave his dick left behind so you don't lose your edge. 

The whine you let out gets swallowed into his wet and frantic mouth. 

He's so close you can feel every line and curve of his muscles. Your noses rub together, your foreheads touch, your lashes overlap—you couldn't be closer and yet your hands rise to fist his messy hair and pull him more, needing that support while he rubs and kisses you towards release. 

That euphoric feeling is climbing again. Usually by now, it would have taken center stage. It'd be all your desperate body seeks, but that isn't entirely the case right now. 

You just want him. It doesn't matter how or when he gives it to you. If he were to ask you what you need, you would just answer with his name. You would beg him to get closer even though that isn't physically possible. You would give him permission to torture you until he's tired. He could ask for anything and you would want that too. 

“Come,” he says into your ear. His smooth and croaky voice makes you shudder. 

You fall apart in his hands, lips pliant and tired as he continues to massage them. When your orgasm bursts, it's like you're flipped inside out, every delicate tissue and nerve ending susceptible to the gentlest of touches. Pleasure courses through your veins, immersing itself with every cell in your body. 

Then the rush fizzles out and you're left floating in a cloud of pure ecstasy. 

He lingers close, lips suspended on the edge of a kiss. His quiet pants breathe life back into you. 

You don't open your eyes again, and it's hard to tell how much time passes between one moment and the next. His proximity lulls you to a state of partial sleep. You know he's watching you, but the quiet thoughts and feelings exuding from his gaze soothe you. 

“Hey,” he calls. 

 You only hum. 

“You can't fall asleep.”

“Hm? Oh, right.” You come back to flecks of silver and blue regarding you exactly as you felt it. It's a look that spills warmth and tender admiration. “Lunch in town. I almost forgot. We haven't eaten any—”

“Yeah, sure.” He says it like the suggestion is only an afterthought. “But you couldn't actually have been thinking about napping over all the sweat and cum.”

You huff out a tired laugh. Your eyelids slide back down. 

“I don't see the joke,” he grumbles. “It was enjoyable, sure, but there's too many fluids involved. We have to change the sheets.”

You hum in lazy agreement. 

“And the pillowcases.”

“Yeah.”

“And if you care enough, the pillows too.”

“Sure,” you slur. 

“I'll make sure to scrub your clothes clean.”

“Nice.”

“And maybe the top of the mattress—are you even listening?” The sharp edge of his tone reappears, and you're certain there's a scowl on his face ready to greet you whenever you decide to open your eyes. “I can't believe you wouldn't take this seriously. Sex is too damn filthy.” He peels himself off you, leaving you to the cold air that filters through your window. The bed shifts under his weight, then you hear the soft thud of his feet on the floor. 

“Levi, why are you always killing the mood so fast?” 

He throws a pillow at your face. “Cleaning first. Lunch later.”

Chapter Text

“I thought I smelled a rat. Who the hell left the backdoor open?” 

“I'm a guest.”

“And the cockroaches downstairs are VIPs. Care to join them in the basement?” 

“You sure are—damn.” Levi clenches his teeth, tongue clicking behind them. He tries again. “I'm just here to—”

“Whore house is eight blocks away in case you got the address wrong.”

His face turns, blindfolded eyes peering over his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

Your feet come to an immediate halt behind him, almost with a flinch. You crane your neck to glare daggers at the back of his head. “What was that?” The question fires in his direction with the low tone of a warning. “You really want to push my buttons today.” 

Levi shuffles on the chair to find a better position for his arms, shaking the chains that keep his hands bound to the splat. “I'm fucking trying.”

“Not hard enough, clearly.” 

He follows the sound of your voice to the front, where you lean against your desk, arms folded over your chest as you look at the outline of his eyes behind the black fabric that circles his head. The first buttons of his shirt are undone, red bruises dotting the expanse of his throat. 

“You're enjoying this way too much,” he grumbles, likely feeling your stare on him.

You flick your eyes down to the bulge between his legs. “Aren't you? Or you'd be putting in the effort to not fuck up so much. Maybe I'm not whipping you hard enough.” You grab the ODM gear strap, letting the leather slide along the surface of the desk to alert him of your intentions. 

“You—” Whatever he wanted to say crumbles with a teasing stroke of the strap over his abdomen. Through a sharp breath, he sucks his stomach in, heart rampaging inside his chest. 

“Color, Levi.” 

“Green.” Otherwise used to express 'keep going'. Levi doesn't doubt his answer even if he's so tense he can hardly keep still. 

The sharp impact of the whip makes him flinch, no longer coming as shy or careful as the first time you punished a mistake. You're toying with the line that divides slight pain from pleasure, bending but never breaking him.

He clenches his teeth to hold back a moan, knowing that any hint of visible enjoyment awards him a harsher strike. It's a reminder for him as much as it is for you; that this isn't an encounter between secret lovers. You're coming at him like a devil to her street rat. 

You cross your arms, the strap still in your hold, and lean back against the desk. “You'll be in a room surrounded by egotistic, money-hungry pigs dressed in tailcoats and top hats. Stuck-up MPs among them, and some of them drunk.” Your stone cold expression matches the way you speak, intent on showing him your stance on the situation. “I need to be sure you'll be able to handle it with grace.”

From the moment you were told Levi would be joining Keith and Erwin on their trip to Mitras, you knew you would have your work cut out for you. It's bad enough that the core of Erwin's plan to win over the parliament is, of all people, Levi himself—your stubborn, bad-mouthed, short-tempered street rat; and not only is he expected to attend the debate, but also the social gathering that will be held the night prior, because 'relations matter in the military'  or so Erwin said to your expressed concerns. 

You sigh, surrendering to the task that was imposed on you. “We're not leaving this room until you've completed your ten adequate answers. Let's try this again.” You move away from the desk and saunter to the back of the chair. Levi strains his sense of hearing to locate you based on the sound of your steps. “An MP approaches you this time.” For the following scenario, you mock a man’s tone. “Do entertain my curiosity, Levi. Any good whore houses down there? I’ve been told underground ladies get more frisky for less.”

“I don't know.” 

You approach him. Only the splat of the chair keeps you from making direct contact with his back. “No need to be greedy, undergrounder. Surely someone of your reputation knows a couple of places.”

“I don't know.” There’s an added layer of defiance in his answer, so your hand perches on the base of his neck to reproach that notion. You press your fingers into the collar of his shirt, resulting in a grip that reduces him to the likes of a prey. His skin is warm in your hold despite the layer of fabric between you. 

“Give him a break, man,” you continue the act. “Maybe our superhuman soldier doesn't do well with the ladies. Size matters, gentlemen. Size matters. In all areas.”

He stays silent. 

“Not funny enough for ya?” You keep prodding, testing the limits of his patience. No MP has ever gone easy on a scout before. 

The long breath he takes is clearly meant to ground himself. “My height doesn't bother me. Let alone comments about it. I'm needed somewhere. Good evening.” 

You swallow a laugh, the corners of your mouth lifting. It's a luxury you can afford since he isn't able to see anything. “Fair enough. I’ll accept your answer.” Your second hand finds his other shoulder and both of them slide down his chest to separate two more buttons. Your lips hover by his ear as you work the front of his shirt apart, pulling it down his shoulders and exposing fair skin underneath. “You want your reward, Levi?” 

He shivers. A breathy “yes” slithers out. 

The brush of your lips is featherlight on his ear, sliding from there to the length of his throat. Goosebumps spread on his flushed skin. You see his larynx bobbing and hear the pop that comes from him swallowing too hard. 

Your mouth settles on a spot where his neck and shoulder meet. Levi is already breathless, unable to stay put while you suck a new bruise on his sensitive skin. He lets his head fall on your shoulder, a beautiful moan escaping him, coarse and pliant against your ear. 

“Gorgeous,” comes like a purr. The ghost of a touch teases his nipple, one that fades when you step away, denying him the chance to feel you, much less reach you. “That makes five correct answers. You’re halfway there, pretty one. Do well and you’ll get your big prize at the end.”

Levi drags his head back to a proper position like it were heavy on his shoulders. He nods.

“Good boy.” You take a few steps to the right so you can get a good view of his side profile. Your eyes trace the smooth bridge of his nose, his thin lips and the sharp outline of his jaw. His chest is sticking out towards the front, shoulders pulled tight to the back of the chair with his hands cuffed below them. 

“A noble finds you at the sweets buffet,” you introduce the next scenario. 

“Hell knows what I'd be doing there.”

“Now, now,” you play as the noble, mocking the stereotype of a rich Mitras man. “I better not see you hoarding the entire table, boy. Things here don't work like they do underground.”

“Most nobles can't fit into a carriage seat,” he grumbles under his breath, as if making the comment to himself, “let alone their suits.”

You seize his throat, tipping his head upward. “Try to be funny again and I'll see to it that you regret it.”

Levi stays pliant in your grip. “I meant… you don't need to worry. I will mind my manners.” His larynx flicks up and down when he swallows. “I'm needed somewhere. Good evening.”

“You can't expect to dodge every interaction with the same answer, but I'll accept it.” Your hold on his throat eases into a playful caress.

His knitted brows shape a fervent look you have no doubt is flashing behind the blindfold as well. He's quite aware of his surroundings, senses honed so he doesn't lose your position. It's the same acuteness that makes him thrive in the field. He follows the sound of your steps and flinches when your hands land on his thighs. 

You lean forward, cornering him between yourself and the backrest. His hot pants blow over your mouth, a soft tea scent sweetening them. “You want your reward?” 

“Please.” He swallows a sharp breath, reacting to the feeling of your warm tongue on his nipple. You place your lips there and suckle. Levi can only hang his head over the backrest and groan at the ceiling. 

The palms of your hands slither to the inside of his thighs. “Levi,” drips from your lips like honey, a bewitching call to your audience of one. You spread his legs open and find his urgent need bulging between them. “Keep them like that for me.”

Yet again, you walk away, leaving him desperate for your return. The shackles ring when he tries to pull his hands apart, a mindless instinct telling him to reach for you by any means possible. 

“Patience,” you say. 

“We've been here a while.”

“I know. Time would have been cut in half if it hadn't taken you so long to understand how the game works.” You saunter to the back of the chair. “Give me a color.” 

“Green.” 

Your gaze slides over his side profile on your way back to the front. The small of your back meets the edge of the desk once more, and you watch him, arms crossed, as he sits in complete submission, loving how he looks with the restraints keeping him bound and helpless on your chair. 

“If it isn't Erwin's favorite dog,” you mock another MP. “Are you keeping his lap warm, mutt?” 

Silence spreads. You can almost see the clockwork turning in his head while he thinks hard about an adequate response to give back. 

“My pledge was to the cause,” he grumbles, thighs drawing closer. “Section Commander—” 

You place the heel of your boot on the edge of the chair, right between his legs. “What did I say about keeping them spread?” 

He jerks them open in the flash of a second, as if having been threatened with his life. “My pledge was to the cause. Section Commander Erwin just happens to have the clearest vision of it.”

“Not bad, pretty one. Not bad.” You push your weight into the heel of your boot and reel closer, arm resting on your thigh. Your other hand brushes a couple of bangs to the sides of his forehead. “This feels familiar,” you hum. “Wasn’t I in a similar position the first time we got frisky?”

You don't think he's breathing anymore. Every part of him looks tense. 

“And then I just…” Your knee drops on the chair, replacing the heel of your boot, and then it buries into his crotch. 

He shudders, thighs squeezing your knee with a mind of their own, but the obedience drilled into his subconscious makes him fling them apart the second he has some awareness back. 

“Always so good for me,” you purr, unable to hide how endeared you are. “As we were. Another MP approaches—”

“Wait,” Levi breathes, and he sounds shy about interrupting you. “You haven’t—my reward.”

“Ah, yes. Silly of me to even forget.” The words leave you with as much innocence as a viper toying with its prey. Your palm moves up his leg like you have all the time in the world to indulge him, feeling the hard muscles of his thigh underneath your fingertips. You inch towards his erection and shy away at the last second, clearly purposeful about torturing him.

His mouth parts, but only a sharp breath leaves him. 

Slowly, you pull the belt from its buckle, taking just as long to slide it off the loops together with his waist skirt. 

“Captain,” he groans.

Your fingers stop on his zipper. You look up. “Hm?” 

“I just…” He doesn't know what to add, too fearful of saying something he shouldn't. “Please.”

“Am I supposed to understand what that means?” 

“Your hand.”

“What about it?” You watch him struggle to spill what's on his mind. The corner of your mouth curls up with amusement. “You want my hand on your dick?”

He nods. 

The sound of the zipper melts with how slowly you drag it down, like it's too heavy to yank in one go. “Then say it.” Your knee slides off the chair to perch on the spindle.

“I want your hand on my—” He clenches his teeth, suppressing the wanton noise you draw out with your tongue on the shell of his ear. 

“Moan it,” you order. A single finger teases his bulge, drawing mindless patterns with a featherlight touch. 

“Please,” is an enticing mix between a whine and a croak. “I want… your hand on my dick.” 

In a display of mercy, your hand slips inside his pants to grip him over his briefs, and Levi can’t help but mindlessly tug at the cuffs when he feels it. His expression twists, brows pulling towards each other and into the blindfold. A breathless mewl slithers through his teeth, one that blows over your lips right before you come down to kiss him. 

He takes it with a gasp and quickly melts under your touch, welcoming the rush of stimulation you split between your mouth and your hand. His tongue darts out to receive you, pliant yet greedy as it slides against yours in an attempt to keep up with the vehement dance. 

Your fingers massage him, your lips work faster and your body pushes closer. In the heat of the moment, you just want him to have it all. You want your pretty boy pleased and tended to. 

Levi accepts your offerings like a starved slave. He lets himself be bent; lets you corner him against the chair; lets you numb his mind and feed him so much at once. The chains rattle as he pushes forward for more, any scrap of reward you deem him worthy of having.

You hear the whisper of an orgasm in the broken sound he lets out, an accidental reminder that makes you snap out of the rush. 

Just as easily, you deprive him of everything, leaving a needy and confused man on the chair. His thighs snap together in desperation, but even then, he forces them apart again, keeping them exactly as you instructed. 

“Captain,” is all he can manage with a choked-up sound. 

“You don't get to come until we're done.” The small of your back meets the desk as you watch him with your arms crossed, loving how enticing he looks when he's struggling. “So I'm supposed to believe someone of your size is worth a hundred soldiers?” The act begins again. 

You can tell the notion catches him by surprise. “What?” he asks. 

“It's the idea Erwin is implying. That you're the strongest man alive. Or is he perhaps overselling you?” 

“What kind of dumb ass title is that? Erwin is in over his head. I don't appreciate being showcased like some freak—” 

“Wrong.” You grab the strap and fling it across the air, hitting his bicep. The layers of clothes he wears cushion the strike, but Levi flinches and shuts his mouth. “We don't have time for modesty. You already know your worth so declare it. The parliament needs to be impressed.” You ease back against the desk. “Try again. Is Erwin overselling you? Yes or no?”

“No, I kill more titans in one expedition than several soldiers in a lifetime.” It comes without missing a beat, expressing the certainty you wanted to hear. 

“Those are some bold claims.”

“Only because I can prove them.” He readjusts on the chair, stealing some seconds to connect more sentences in his head. “I'm sure you're aware Erwin isn't the type to waste time on fruitless endeavors. If you want witnesses, you have hundreds. If you want a show, there are front row seats on top of wall Maria. Want results? You'll get them.”

“Good fucking boy.” Leaving the strap on the desk, you descend to your knees in front of him. The moment you place your hands on his thighs and your proximity registers in his mind, he tenses but fully welcomes it. 

You nose the inside of his knee and slither up the side of his thigh. His muscles are lean and strong, offering a thicker feel the further you go up his leg. The faint smell of his arousal welcomes you in and your mouth teases him with a light kiss on his pelvis, right beside his erection. 

He trembles, head sinking into his shoulders. His face tilts down even if he can't enjoy anything with his eyes. “I want to see.” 

You hum. “Yeah, I bet you want to see me on my knees. Want to see my face buried in your crotch, hm?”

“Yes.”

“That's too bad.” You tug the waistband of his boxer briefs, exposing the wiry hairs that trail down his pelvis. “You'll just have to conform.” 

“Please—” He cuts himself off with a gasp, hips bucketing to chase the kiss you place just above his erection. “Fuck, please.” Behind the blindfold, you see his eyes screwing shut. “Please, I—I can't…”

You pull back, eyes squinting above the smile that forms as you peer at the subtle roll of his hips. His thighs are spread into a wide V, dick throbbing between them, and the sudden urge to test the extent of his flexibility makes you ease them further apart. 

They open more with every short push, and Levi at no point utters any complaint that could suggest he has reached his limit. You push them so far back he would be spread on the bed like a frog. His dick sticks out even more, a clear bulge at the center of the straight line his legs form. 

Your jaw drops. “Holy fuck, Levi. You gorgeous man. Look at you. Keep those open for me, will you?” You pat his thigh to encourage him. It's a given his flexibility could take his legs a little past that, but you like the current position way too much to consider changing it. You would pay ridiculous amounts of money just to get a painting of Levi like this for your bedroom wall.

Ragged breaths tear from his lungs. A deep red color spreads over his cheeks and nose. His attempt to aim his face away from you turns out to be completely futile. 

“Can you do that?” you ask. “Keep them like that for me?” 

He nods, eyes squeezed behind the blindfold. 

“That's my good boy.” You rise to your feet. “That's eight points by the way. My pretty one is doing so well.” You can't stop looking at him like he's a doll inside a glass case. “You're dealing with a tipsy MP now. Levi, let's share a drink.”

“I-I'm good.” Levi coils into himself when he hears the broken state of his voice. He clears his throat and tries to correct it. “I'm good. Thanks.”

“Come on, scout. Just one drink. It's not gonna kill you.” 

“Though I appreciate it, I already had a drink.”

Your voice grows cold, a wordless warning in itself. His manners are welcomed, but you want him to bend where there's no harm in doing so. “You're really gonna be like that? Take the damn drink.”

“I already said—” Your pointer and middle fingers push through his lips, slipping inside his warm mouth. It catches him by surprise, but he doesn't fight it. 

“Levi,” you growl, fingers pressing on his tongue to flatten it against the bottom of his mouth. “Just accept the goddamn drink. What's the point in being stubborn about it? This gathering is to socialize and make good impressions. You don't have to even drink it. Just take it.” You push your fingers in, feeling the walls of his throat constrict around them. “Is that clear?” 

He snaps his head up and down to nod. 

When your knee rises to bury into his crotch, Levi flinches, and you feel him moan around your fingers. His head lolls back, letting itself get pushed by your fingers as they slide in deeper. He swallows but does not gag.

Your cunt pulses. “Fuck, Levi. Just fucking look at you. You love getting your ass punished, don't you?” 

Another moan escapes him. You feel the vibrations inside his mouth. 

“Are you ready to cooperate?”

He nods. 

You slip your fingers out and give him some seconds to catch his breath. “Same situation. MP insists you take the drink while he's in a good mood.” Your knee stays pressed against his bulge. You part his messy bangs to the sides. “What will you say?” 

“A-appreciated.”

Your lips inch up into an amused grin. “You would moan to an MP? My pretty boy is gonna whore himself out at the party, huh?” 

He clenches his teeth, likely scowling at the mental image of you. 

“You better not. Those sounds are mine.” After that comment, you resume the act. “A toast to you, my friend. For better luck in your future, seeing as you only managed to swap one hell for another.”

He expels a tired sigh through his nose. “Cheers,” sounds anything but excited. 

You fist his longer strands of hair and tug his head back, exposing the veins and tendons on his throat to your eager pair of eyes. His reward comes in the form of your lips on his pulse point, where you tease and suck the warm skin with only enough pressure to avoid a deep mark. 

“You really don't give a shit, huh?” You present the last scenario, just as eager to finish this session. “You just come here, a murderer, no repercussions at all. We think you belong in a cell.”

Levi struggles to shove words between the moans clogging his throat. “I'll… be of better service to humanity by…” He squirms. Your lips travel to the center of his throat, making it hard for him to focus. “I'll serve humanity until a titan eats me. No use wasting me inside a cell.”

“What service could you offer to humanity by being a scout? You happen to be part of the most pointless branch in the military.” 

“Until Erwin steps in as commander, that is yet to be decided.”

A chuckle slips from your mouth. “You shouldn't demean the commander so blatantly, but I'll pretend I didn't hear it.”

“I can… I'm strong enough that it will make a difference.”

“Better. Just make sure you don't moan it so much.”

He ignores your teasing. The restraints screech with the pull of his wrists. “Are we done?” 

“You did enough to barely pass. Maybe I should put you through a recovery test.”

He tenses upon the suggestion. “Please. I've learned, I swear.”

You lean back to caress the side of his face. Endearment spills from your gaze as you look at him. “Have you now?” 

“Yes.” You're sure he hears the key when you pull it from the pocket of your jacket. His breathing speeds up. “Yes. I'll be good at the party, I promise—Captain.” 

“I won't be there to monitor you. Can I really trust you?” 

“Yes.”

“I will never forgive you if you pull any stunts.”

He wriggles on the chair, desperate about his lack of freedom. “I'm your good boy. Always your good boy, I promise.”

You circle your arms around his frame, key finding the lock of the cuffs with a soft click. Your lips hover on the edge of a kiss, receiving the hot breaths Levi can't seem to keep in. 

“You want your prize, pretty one?” 

“Please.”  

“You'll have to check if my cunt is ready to swallow you.” 

Levi tugs at the shackles, barely keeping himself together. “I'll check.”

With a twist, the lock is off, but Levi doesn't act without your permission. He waits like a dog trained to not move without a command even when the leash is off. You tether his left hand to the chair once again, leaving the other one free.

With your guidance, he finds your waist and is then urged to slide his palm up the side of your body until it finds a breast. He squeezes, legs twitching with need, but his hand doesn't make any other movement without your permission. 

The exploration resumes. You take his hand between your breasts and down your abdomen, where he waits in place while you open your pants for him. 

The second Levi hears the zipper, he pushes your hand off and slips inside your underwear. Two fingers locate your hole and thrust inside. 

A shudder runs through you. You can feel him slide in with ease.

“You're—fuck.” His voice is thick, struggling to get past the knot in his throat. “I didn't think you'd be…”

“Ready just from watching you?” Your underwear already feels soaked through.

He sneaks a third finger inside, and when his mouth finds your ribcage, you do your best to not moan so loud. 

“Please,” he groans. “My other hand.”

“What will you do if I release you?” 

“I'll take you on the desk.” 

“Yeah? You'll make me come around your cock this time?” 

“I'll give you anything,” he breathes against your skin. “Anything you want.”

“How can I say no to that?” You grab his wrist and make him pull out his fingers. They shine with your slick up to the knuckles. You guide them to his mouth instead, and he doesn't hesitate to open it, welcoming your taste with a low hum. “Good boy,” you whisper. Your other hand travels around his frame to insert the key into the lock. 

It comes off with a click, and a thud follows as it hits the floor. He returns his arm to the front and waits for your permission. 

You feel pleased about that. “Take your reward, Levi.”

He bolts off the chair at that moment, hands seizing your waist to take you with him to the desk. You feel like a feather when he lifts you onto the edge of the surface. The blindfold slides down on one side, showing a dilated pupil that immediately finds your face, and you waste no time in pulling it over his head.

His eyes blink open behind messy bangs of hair. The flecks of blue in his irises seem lighter in color, contrasting with the black of the fabric that was hiding them. He leans in, and you let the blindfold slip from your fingers as he catches your lips. 

His bulge settles between your legs with the eager roll of his hips. He yanks you so close that half of your ass tips off the edge of your desk, lips fusing to the point it’s only possible to keep them open against each other. 

You taste a mix of him and a hint of the tea he drinks in the mornings. His mouth is hot and soft like silk, so easy to get addicted to, and he's much looser with his tongue now. You slide your hands up his back and grip the fabric of his jacket to tug him closer. The layers of clothes between you lessen the feeling of his body and you're desperate to get them off, desperate to have his hard muscles against your body.

You help him out of his jacket, and upon sensing your rush, Levi interrupts the kiss to shrug it off his arms, uncaring as it lands on the floor. He helps you get out of yours next. The thick fabric slides down the length of your arms and falls beside his discarded uniform.

He only has enough patience to undo the first two buttons of your shirt. Your bra is pushed down, revealing untouched skin to his mouth that he doesn't hesitate to suckle and claim as his property once again. His warm tongue makes you shudder, teeth careful around your hard nipple. 

He's equally fast about yanking your boots off. He leaves them on the floor without a second thought to work your pants open. 

His eagerness is pure ecstasy on its own. You lean back on your hands so it's easier to lift your hips as he pulls your pants and underwear down in one go. He sets them aside on the chair and hurries to reclaim his spot between your thighs. The fire in his gaze passes physical heat into your body, drunken eyes zeroed in on every part of you, appreciating you like you were the statue of a goddess on a fountain.

The butterflies in your stomach grow razor-sharp wings. You grab his neck and reel him in for another kiss he doesn't hesitate to answer.

An even mix of moans and heavy pants shoot between your mouths. He grabs your waist for support, and it feels as though his touch could burn you through the fabric of your clothes. You lock your ankles around the small of his back and make Levi stumble forward, resulting in your chests pressing flush. 

With barely any space separating you from him, Levi slithers his hand between your bodies to take his cock out, too impatient to bother with his pants. 

Heavy need balls up in your stomach. The waiting game has stretched for too long. You lean back on the desk and spring your legs open, walls pulsing for his dick, desperate to be filled. Your eyes flick up to watch him with anticipation. 

Something tells you he stops looking down way before he actually wants to. One hand grips the side of your waist to maneuver you closer. The other lines his cock to your entrance. A glance in your direction seeks approval, and you provide it with a quick nod. 

He slides in, heavy pants buried under the string of moans you let out with his name. It pours from your lips dense and sweet like honey, a call for him to continue filling you. 

The length of him thickens out the further he pushes through your slick. You throw your head back, swallowing the heat, his size— him. His hands find the inside of your thighs, and whether the intention is to anchor himself or spread you wider, you welcome both of those outcomes with a broken sound. His hands are clammy and warm, and they tighten their grip when he hears you. 

Your legs circle around his small waist and lock on his back. With one tug, he lurches forward, his girth impaling you in one fell swoop all the way to his thick base. His tip nudges a sensitive spot deep inside you, and when he pulls out, the feeling of his girth grazing your walls spins your whole world upside down. 

You drop on the surface of your desk, head hanging off the edge as you mewl at the ceiling. Levi crosses the last inches of distance and bends over so his lips touch the first spot of flesh they find, it being right beneath a breast. 

His balls press against your ass. His pelvis offers a steady surface with how lean and well built he is. You love being this close to the man you find most attractive in this world. You love his body and love having it all over you. 

His mouth infuses you with heat that zaps down to your navel, joining the bliss his cock pumps into you. His hands slide to the outside of your thighs to keep them locked around him. Neither of you want even an inch of air between your bodies. 

You hold on to his shoulders just to have something to grip. When he rocks into the back of your cunt, a moan tumbles out from your lips. “Oh, god.”

“Fuck, you're squeezing the blood out of me.” Levi is breathless, pushing hot pants against your bristled skin. “You really like it here.”

To prove his point, he continues to hit that same corner. From the moment he slips through the first rings of flesh, to his crotch pressing flush against you, only to pull back out and thrust in again, it feels amazing. Too heavenly. He’s fucking you so well. 

“Levi.” You think you sound like the equivalent of an animal in heat.

He throbs inside you. “Shit.” 

You loll your head to the sides. Your mind is transcending reality. “Fuck, Levi.” 

He licks a wet stripe up the middle of your breasts and detours to suck a nipple. His hands pull your shirt apart to get more skin out into the open. 

Your expression pinches. “Ah—fucking… sh-shit.”

Then he finds your clit with his middle finger, fanning the flames of your pleasure, and something snaps in your brain. 

“Levi.” You get a sensory overload—the fantastic kind. He's pleasing you from every angle, stuffing you with more pleasure than you know how to deal with. His cock strokes it, his mouth licks it, his finger rubs it into you; his presence alone feeds it, makes it stronger, wilder. 

A scream would have fired into the open if he hadn't clamped his palm around your mouth at the right moment. He stops moving, stealing your pleasure in the most evil manner.

You're shaking, and your grip on his waist melts off. Your legs collapse on the desk, lidded eyes slipping towards the back of your head. You would curse and scream if you hadn't been edged to the brink of stupidity. 

Then you hear it: steps in the hallway. Levi might have caught them before you did. When your eyes snap open, he's already glowering at the wall that divides your office from the corridor. 

You try to calm your breathing, but your lungs aren't cooperating, and neither are his. He removes his hand from your mouth and pulls you forward so your head can take a break on the surface of your desk. His dick stays in, unwilling to relinquish the chance of fucking you to completion. 

From there, you just wait it out. 

The footfalls get louder. The two of you stare at the door, puffing out hasty breaths. He's throbbing inside you, and you're so sensitive your cunt feels everything, even the smallest move; whether that's a step to the side or a soft exhale. 

The person is closer now. So close. You think they might be standing right outside your—

Three knocks have never made you seethe with so much rage.

“Captain?” you hear on the other side. 

Levi's grip on you tightens, an instinctive act of possession that seeks to reclaim his captain. If not by name, then by touch. 

You don't recognize the voice of any superior officer. Someone must have sent him on their behalf. 

“Captain?” he tries again. 

You don't trust yourself to speak appropriately, fearful that a moan might come out in between the words. Levi's dick is hot and rock hard inside you. 

A deep breath enters your lungs, then you exhale it in silence, eyes closed. You run the same sentence in your head several times. What is it? What is it? What is it? You think about the way you want it to sound, how fast it should come out, where to place the accents. 

“What is—what do you… want?” You groan, quickly giving up, and raise your voice. “You picked the wrong time to piss me off.”

“Captain.” The male voice on the other side becomes nervous. “Pardon the interruption. Section Commander Erwin has requested your presence in his office.”

Levi huffs out a whisper of a breath against your mouth. “Of course it's fucking Erwin.” You barely hear his voice. It's more of his lips moving to form the words. 

“Shush,” you nearly hiss, then you address the scout with a louder tone. “Heard. I'll be there in five.”

From your peripheral vision, Levi's eyes narrow with disapproval. Fifteen, he mouths. 

“Ten,” you correct. 

“Understood, ma'am. I'll relay it to the section commander.”

Tension permeates the room while you wait, frozen in place, for the man to leave. You ignore the exchange of breaths taking place between you to focus more on the retreating steps of the scout. His sharp clicks against the stone floor shrink with the distance and wither away at the end of the staircase. 

Then it's as if a switch gets flipped again. 

Levi pulls his dick out, leaving just the tip inside. “Ten,” he grumbles before thrusting in again. “When has it ever been just ten?” 

You feel his thick length sliding through your walls, and when his tip kisses the back, a low moan rolls out. You throw your head back, spine arching off the desk. “Duty… comes first.”

“Not if you owe me my prize.”

A mix between a laugh and a moan escapes you. “Someone's getting bold. I practically hand out—” his next thrust makes your whole body twitch, “—ah, fuck —p-prizes to you for free.”

“I don't take any of them for granted.”

You peer at him through the slim opening of your squinted eyes, flashing an amused look his way. “Proud little whore, hm?” 

He's panting without making any significant sound. His pupils are blown out, the gray of his eyes a shade of two darker under his messy bangs. He's looking at you like he could devour you alive. “Something like that.”

The next snap of his hips pushes your head off the desk, where you let it hang, too focused on the pleasure building between your legs. Your vision turns upside down and you feel the blood flowing to your face. 

“That looks uncomfortable,” he breathes. 

“You don't like the couch.”

He secures a grip on both sides of your ribcage and helps you sit up. His cock switches angles inside you, sparking a different kind of pleasure in the bottom of your stomach. “I'll help clean up.” He pulls you against him and slides his palms down your sides. Your skin shudders under his warm and careful touch. He's treating you like you were made of glass. 

The caress ends on your ass. His hands settle there and press you flush against him. You respond with your legs wrapping around his waist. Your mouths meet as he lifts you off the desk and into his arms. 

Your weight is always reduced to nothing when he carries you, and you welcome that feeling. It mirrors the effect of having the weight of your worries eased off your shoulders. Levi does that for you simply by being around. 

You're too enamored, which is a scary feeling, but it’s also unique in the best sense possible.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Levi—the wall. Fuck me into a wall.” 

The low groan that tumbles out of him expresses heartfelt approval. He changes his course per your request. 

The smack of your lips is wet and frantic, and he doesn't seem to mind that your fingers are making an even bigger mess of his hair. You pull him closer, noses sliding against each other. His mouth follows your lead, focused on keeping up with your tempo. 

You're slumped against the cold surface of the stone wall. An eager sound gets yanked from your chest, muffled against Levi's lips. He pushes you to a higher level so his pelvis can rock into you with upward movements, faces tilting to keep you mouths connected. 

You feel the physical heat of your bodies blending in with the heat of the pleasure and the strong emotions you harbor for this man. It's too much, and you fucking love it. You want all of it. All of him. 

He plunges in and out of you, working with the entire length of his dick. You try to keep your voice tame, but the sound of skin slapping skin and your back hitting the wall inspires you to be louder. 

The uninterrupted pace builds your pleasure. Your cunt is raw, susceptible to every hard inch he stuffs into you. Your fluids are overflowing. You feel them dripping whenever his dick pulls out before he thrusts back into you. 

Your head is a foggy mess. You only know the letters of his name, his scent, his body and his dick inside you. Your office falls into a void, just like your room did when he fucked you there, and every sound outside of your small scope becomes irrelevant. 

You loll your head back, squinted eyes facing the ceiling, and you throw your arms beside your head. “Want you,” you whine. 

“I'm yours.” He catches your hands and weaves your fingers together, keeping them pinned to the wall. 

Needy as you are, that simple action makes you lose it. You gasp, and your eyes open wide. Levi thrusts in and stays there so he can roll his hips, keeping you supported between his pelvis and the wall. 

“Fuck, Levi, I—fucking…” Your gaze flicks down at him, cunt pulsing when you see him. 

His eyes have more black than silver, and you can tell he's fighting every instinct in him to keep them open for the pleasure of watching you fall apart. Levi isn't a man of many words, but a single look from him can tell you everything. 

“I'm coming,” you whisper. The knot in your stomach pulls taut, becoming a delicious ache. “I—I'm coming.”

“I'll wait,” he promises. “Need help?”

“Just stay like that. Don't let go.”

“I won't.” His grip on your hands tightens to prove his point. “Come around me.”

Fulfilling his request is the easy part. Keeping it together isn't. You have to bite your lower lip to keep the sounds inside your mouth as you orgasm. 

He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, releasing the softest of whimpers there, a small yet high-pitched sound that makes your skin tingle. The swell of your cunt must be torturing him. 

You moan his name, and he says yours back. It's the only set of words the two of you can remember. 

Fire spreads across your system. It becomes all-consuming. You need room to breathe, yet your legs wrap around him to keep him against you. Cum trails down your thighs, lathers his dick and his balls. There's so much of it. 

“Sorry. Fuck—I'm sorry,” he musters out, voice muffled against your neck. “I'm going to come.”

You hear him behind a veil in your head, the sound of his words distant and blurred. Your body is just beginning to come down from the high. “It's alright, sweetness. Just let go.”

Levi pulls out just in time to come all over your stomach, and you release his waist to support your own weight with shaky legs. His semen soaks through the fabric of your shirt, warm and slick on your skin.

He's still panting on your neck, hands keeping yours pinned to the wall. Neither of you move for the next few seconds. You feel comfortable standing against him, where all that exists is his touch and his heat. 

The slight shift of his body makes enough room for your mouths to meet again. This kiss drags on, allowing you to savor every detail of each other. It's the kind of gesture that reveals so much without words, the kind that puts butterflies in your stomach. 

Against every desire in you, a sense of duty keeps nagging you. “Levi,” you hum. “I need to go.”

“I doubt it's been ten minutes.” He doesn't stop kneading your lips.  

“I need to change.” Even so, you don't stop kissing him either. 

“Erwin can wait five minutes.”

You forget to answer, letting him consume you with the quiet messages his mouth professes to you. His grip on your wrists loosens, mind focused on your face, so you take the chance to drop your hands around his neck and hold him there. He bends his elbows and plants his forearms on the wall to be closer. 

The tempo gradually becomes something different. Your tongues go from sliding to pushing and pulling each other. You hold his hair in your hands, fingers pressing into his scalp. The temperature in the room rises a few notches. 

“Fuck.” You slither your palms between your bodies and push him off. “That’s more than enough.”

He clicks his tongue. 

It's hard to glance elsewhere when he looks so handsome with his disheveled hair and the beads of sweat on his temple. “You're becoming very high maintenance.” Amused, you walk away to pick up your clothes, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of slickness between your thighs. You're almost sure he's still staring at your ass when you crouch down. 

“Why does Erwin need you, anyway? There's nothing else to discuss in regards to the plan.”

You pull your underwear and pants on. “I'm sure he has his reasons.”

“He's stressing too much about it.”

“Not to amp up the pressure, but the future of the scouts kind of depends on you—here's your jacket.” You pick it off the floor and offer it to him. 

His pants are already buttoned up when you turn in his direction. He comes up to you and takes it, though rather than putting it on, he tucks it under his arm. 

You take a seat on your chair to slip the first boot on. “Not gonna wear it?” 

“Not when it's been on the floor.”

“You're acting as if I never clean my own office.”

“You know that's not what I mean. The floor is the floor. Hell knows what kind of shit we step on while we're outside.” He watches you put the second boot on, adding nothing so he can enjoy the sound of your laughter. When it’s silent again, he adds, “Sorry about your shirt.”

“I have spares.” Ever since you got into the habit of fooling around with Levi when the opportunity arises, you've been keeping spare clothes in your office, but the luxury of taking your time isn't at your disposal right now. Erwin is waiting and you still have to rinse off the smell of sex. You will have to make do with the used pants and underwear. 

“I'll be gone for a week,” he says, reminding you of that fact as if you weren't already hating it.

“Yeah.” You grab your jacket and a clean shirt. “Maybe I'll spend my vacation in the mountains.”

“Reading Egon Huber's crap?”

You laugh. “Did I tell you Cornelius can play the violin? The princess was very smitten.” 

“Good grief.”

-

“Erwin.” You walk inside his office, closing the door behind you. It has been an extra ten minutes since you ran from your office to your quarters for a quick rinse. “Sorry about the time. I got distracted with paperwork.”

Erwin turns away from a row of documents on the bookshelf to regard you with steady blue eyes. “Captain, please take a seat.” He doesn't seem to mind your tardiness. Whatever he's thinking resides at the center of his mind.

You step in, heading towards the couple of chairs on the opposite side of his own seat. “Is everything okay?” 

“Not as good as it could be.” He leaves a file on the shelf and heads back to his desk. “I have a request.”

You sit down at the same time he does. “I'm listening.” 

“I'm sure it isn't recent news to you that Levi's past criminal record is quite extensive.”

You huff, and it almost sounds like a small laugh. “Almost three pages.”

“Right. His crimes were limited to just the underground, so most of his actions impacted illegal businesses only. The Military Police doesn't keep up to date with underground endeavors, but they were getting tired of having to deal with a man of his ability.”

“Go figure.”

“Of course they were happy to pass on the trouble to me when I showed interest in Levi, along with any record of him. And now that I plan to use his skill to our advantage, word has reached them.” 

You're slowly connecting the dots. “So his personal file…” 

“Was stolen.” He sighs. “That was my mistake. I should have kept a closer eye on it.”

That is a problem. The Military Police can talk all they want about what they have witnessed, but without written evidence, their word wouldn’t hold any weight. That file is the one item that can corroborate Levi's past. The parliament could take the smallest grain of dirt on the scouts as reason enough to make you lose the debate. Your legion's reputation hangs by a thread as it is, so learning you have one of the biggest known underground criminals among you would not help your case. 

“Do you think an MP stole it?” you ask. 

“Possibly. Maybe a merchant is behind this. They don't like us too much either.”

If he counted every organization that didn't like the scouts as suspects, you're sure he would have a long list. 

“Those records will be shown to the parliament, I imagine.” You cross your arms. “Aren't MPs worried they'll get caught in the heat of the argument for giving them away in the first place?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We don't know how deep the corruption runs among the people of power in Mitras.” He leans back on his chair. Despite his careful movements and straight posture, you can see that the situation perturbs him. “They fear Levi's potential and what he can do for the scouts. Any evidence against him will turn out to be detrimental to our legion's future.”

“So we're recuperating this file somehow. Spill the plan, Erwin.”

Your immediate cooperation draws a soft smile across his lips. “I will be relying on you, Captain. We are the only two people who know about this.”

The corner of your mouth quirks with amusement. “Going behind the commander's back, I see.”

“It's all for the benefit of the scouts.”

You don't doubt that to be true, but there's a certain selfishness present in the way he's choosing to operate. He's acting without orders for what he thinks must be done. 

You like that. “Go on.”

“According to procedures, evidence must be sent forty eight hours in advance so the parliament has time to read it and formulate questions for the debate. Chances are Levi's records will have already been delivered before the night of the party.”

“This is sounding tricky.”

“As you know, a masquerade ball will be held at the parliament house to celebrate the engagement of the chairman's daughter. This is our only window, captain. With all the planning and preparations, the parliament hasn't had time to revise the written evidence. It's the reason why the debate was pushed later into the evening of the following day.”

His idea clicks. He's suggesting the evidence will still be unseen on the night of the party. Erwin, Levi and the commander are expected guests, so they can't afford to sneak through the crowd without the risk of being noticed. 

That leaves you as his only option. “Erwin…”

He rests his forearms on the desk and leans into them. “How about it, Captain? Are you up for it? Do you think you can infiltrate the masquerade ball and retrieve those files?” 

Chapter Text

A poser in the mirror stares back at you, wearing the title of a Mitras noblewoman like a costume. 

You barely recognize yourself under the layers of luxurious fabric and ornaments that feel as though they might be adding a couple of extra pounds to your weight. Several bobby pins pull an intricate hairdo together. The bow at the back tops it all off like the crown on someone’s head, scarlet to match the dress transforming the rest of you into a woman of privilege.  

It’s a pretty dress, not to mention expensive in appearance as well, with a lace collar draped across the neckline. A polished gemstone glimmers in the low light, placed in the center of it. Below the waist, the dress goes from smooth fitted to a full skirt that looks much heavier than it actually feels. The only piece that strays from the standard choice of color are the black, elbow-length satin gloves you have finished putting on. 

The sound of the door catches you adjusting the white laced sleeve around your elbows. You watch through the mirror as a woman in her fifties invites herself in, her brown hair pulled up into a high bun with the occasional strand of gray color slicked across the crown of her head. Her dress is several numbers less expensive in appearance, meant for casual use only, though still held to a standard you would seldom see outside of the innermost wall.  

“Your ride is here—oh!” She lets go of the door to clasp her hands together. The spark in her eyes is child-like in nature, as if a youngling has been given a toy. “That is a gorgeous dress. You look stunning in it.” She notices the mess of laces on the back piece, which you have struggled to tie on your own. “Here, let me help you, dear.”

You don’t tend to be fond of Sina’s townsfolk, much less Mitras, but the owner of this lodging house has grown on you fast. Her lifestyle isn't at the level of the nobles in this city, so she’s humble compared to the usual citizens. It was the cheapest place you and Erwin could find. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Lina.” You turn back towards the mirror while she approaches. 

“Nervous?”

You hope it’s small-talk and not something she sees in your body language. “I don’t go to parties often.”

“There is nothing to fret, dear. Especially with the way you look.” She slips the laces through the first row of holes and pulls them tight so the back piece molds to the shape of your shoulder blades, then continues to thread in criss-cross patterns down the length of your torso. “Just walk inside, grab yourself a glass of wine and wait for the right gentleman to get on the dancefloor with. Enjoy some fine dining too, though not too much. This dress is pretty tight around the waist.” She peers over your shoulder to meet your eyes in the mirror stand. “Would you like me to help touch up your face? Your makeup is really light. No one will be able to notice anything from a distance.”

You thought the layers of powder were already doing their job in making you look like anything but yourself. Now she’s telling you it’s not enough? “I’m fine like this. Thank you.” It’s a masquerade ball either way. Any work she’d put in would be lost beneath a mask. 

“The young are so fortunate,” she sighs with dramatic effect. “You would think I was a titan if you saw me leaving my room without any makeup on.”

You huff a quiet breath through your nose. “I can assure you nothing compares to the sheer ugliness of those creatures.” 

Her eyes dart to the mirror for a brief second. “You have seen them?”

“In drawings.” You're not supposed to divulge your occupation to anyone. 

“Oh, well.” She gives a hard tug to the laces, squeezing a bit of air from your lungs. “Word changes between mouths. One can never tell what is accurate and what is not. There.” She tucks the end of the laces under the piece and steps back to admire her work. 

You twist to look at the final product in the mirror. “Thank you.” A soft smile across your lips shows her honest courtesy. 

“We should not keep the driver waiting any longer.” She picks up your folding fan from the bed and gives it to you. With a final glance at the mirror to encourage yourself, you get moving, accepting the fan on your way to the door. 

The room you’re renting is the smallest one she has to offer at her lodging house, yet still twice the size of your quarters, with a bed meant for two and more furniture than you know what to do with. The house sits atop a hill, so the best part of your room is the view of the city streets. 

You follow Mrs. Lina down the stairs, lifting your fluffy skirt so you don’t trip. 

“Oh my!” Her cry of surprise makes you snap your head up. She has stopped a couple of steps away and is glaring daggers at your feet. “Did you not bring proper shoes with you? You cannot go out in those!”

You flinch midstep, realizing you’re exposing a pair of unflattering boots to her eyes. You refuse to sneak around the parliament house in high heels, drawing all ears with noisy clicks on the marble floor. “I’m… my—my friend is bringing them with her.” You come up with an excuse on the fly. “I didn’t want to walk on dirt. They’re brand new so…”

“I see.” Her air of disapproval has yet to wane, but she relents. “I just pray the wind doesn't pick up your skirt on the way there. Your first stop better be the women's restroom so you can change into proper shoes.”

“Will do.” You let the skirt drop to the floor at the end of the stairs. The silhouette of a carriage waits for you on the other side of the doors, looming in the dark with only a couple of street lamps in the distance. It feels like you’re in some strange version of a fairy tale book—minus the excitement that would normally come with it. You’re dreading the moment it will all start. 

“Enjoy your night,” Mrs. Lina says. “I will be at the front desk when you return.” 

You nod. “Very appreciated.”

Outside, the driver at the front of the stagecoach acknowledges you with a nod. Right after, the passenger door opens with Erwin towering at the entrance. He’s wearing a green military trench coat with the scout’s insignia embroidered on the front pocket and on his shoulders, coupled with the standard white trousers and long boots. A belt holds the trench coat to his waist. “Captain,” he greets, offering a hand to you. “That dress suits you well.” 

You would extend the courtesy back to him, but anxiety has your tongue knotted in your mouth. Fisting your dress, you let him guide you inside, the skirt so full it feels as though you have to squeeze through the narrow entrance of the stagecoach. You sit down on one side, and Erwin signals to the driver before slinking in. He shuts the door and takes a seat across from you. 

It’s a strange feeling to be sitting in front of a work colleague while you’re a completely different version of yourself. 

“I was able to acquire a map of the building.” He gets right on to business. 

You exhale with relief. “Thank God. I thought I’d be going in blind.” 

“Let’s review the plan.” Erwin takes the oil lamp he brought with him and offers it to you. “Mind holding this?” 

You grab the item from its handle to suspend it above the map he unfolds. The cabin is so small your knees bump with Erwin’s whenever the stagecoach runs over a pebble or a crack on the street. His legs are buried between the folds of your big skirt. 

“Party guests enter through the main entrance.” He places a finger at the very bottom of the paper and slides it across the drawing. “From there, it’s a straight walk to the hall, though I’m sure you will be guided to your destination by a guard. As you can see, the corridor goes around the hall in a full square. There are exits located to the west and east of the room,” He drags his finger to said places, “so party guests have access to the restrooms.”

“People can leave the hall then.”

“Yes, though there is the occasional guard making sure no one strays far.”

“I take it these are the stairs.” You place your finger on the upper corners of the corridor. 

He nods. “There are several ways to get to the second floor, but any other staircase would be two far from the hall. Your best options are these two and—” he moves his finger back to the hall “—the balcony.”

“There are stairs on the balcony?”

“Not quite.”

“Oh, you mean climbing up then.”

“Or down. Should the need arise. The tree there has branches thick enough to support a person. It leads directly to the balcony upstairs. This, of course, while keeping in mind there could be others around at any time.”

“Duly noted,” you say. “Are there MPs guarding the staircases?”

“There were two on each staircase when I last checked, though I doubt they’ll last longer than a few hours in their posts, considering their reputation.”

“Supposing they don’t…”

“Then I would distract the guards myself.” He looks up at you. “I’ll be keeping watch over you the entire night, Captain. You won’t be doing this alone. If you’re in need of help, I will know.”

You feel some relief upon hearing that. “Thank you.”

“Supposing that doesn't work either, I’d be best to consider the other entrances to the second floor.” Erwin must be sensing your anxiety, because he then adds, “In my honest opinion, I highly doubt it will come to that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A hunch.” 

If it was anyone else in the world, you would be quitting right then and there.

“But we also know the kind of people we’re dealing with, Captain. The MPs won’t last all night before boredom temps them. It’s the reason why I picked this hour for you to arrive.” 

“Okay,” you breathe. “So I make it to the second floor—is this the library?” You point to the drawing titled F2. The design is similar to the previous one, but the big room in the center has ‘library’ written on it. 

“Yes,” he answers. 

“You got the key?”

“Not yet.”

The look you give him demands a better answer than that. 

“I had to confirm its whereabouts first,” he says. 

“And what will you be doing about that?”

“It’s the easiest of outcomes, actually. I’ll ask Levi to retrieve it for us.”

“The irony.” You know you can rely on Levi’s expertise to pickpocket like a magician making objects disappear out of thin air. As a matter of fact, he would have the talent to carry out this whole infiltration with nothing less than perfection. “We may as well send him upstairs to lockpick the doors too.”

“There’s only so much I’m willing to risk with Levi. He’s our main argument in this debate. All eyes will be on him the entire night. It’s best that he stays in the hall.”

You suppose he has a point. “Should I be worrying about guards upstairs?”

“Most of the activity will concentrate on the first floor.”

“Okay, so I enter the library and...” 

“Head to the far wall. Third room to the right.”

“That’s where all the files are stored. Yes, I remember.” You look up at him. “And if they’re not there? Have you considered that someone could be carrying those files with them?”

“There’s a level of formality to matters with the parliament that wasn’t present when I dealt with Lovof… in case that’s what you’re referencing. I hear the man in charge of those files has been freshly hired. Important files such as those are better off stored than crumpled in the pockets of a drunk man new on the job."

“... still.”

“We have better chances taking action than doing nothing at all.”

You lean back on your seat, letting your arm drop with the oil lamp in hand. “Your plan is riding on a series of gambles, basically.” 

He begins to fold the map. “Having second thoughts, Captain?”

“No.” You pause for a moment, repeating his question in your head. “I’m freaking out, but no.” If you back out, the future of the scouts will be in bigger jeopardy and Levi might get tossed back into the underground or sentenced.

“Another thing,” he says while leaning into his own seat. “Levi still doesn’t know what we’re doing. He doesn’t know you’re here either, and I’d prefer it if it stays that way.” 

“Why?” He’s going to help him get the key. There’s no way he won’t question what Erwin’s up to. 

He arches a brow at you. “Do you really want me to elaborate on that?”

You look at him like he has slapped you. He may as well have done the equivalent of that. “Erwin.” The sound of his name slips through a thick knot in your throat. 

Erwin shows that he’s serious. “If he sees you, you’ll distract him. He will worry. He will go after you. Are you going to tell me I’m seeing this wrong?”

A heavy pause fills the stagecoach, and it’s suffocating. Your ears tune out the background noise of the hooves on the street to give the man in front of you your full attention. You keep your expression serious, not to intimidate or deny, but to remain dignified in your situation. 

“Why have you kept him with me for this long, Erwin?”

His lips part. 

The stagecoach comes to a stop. “We’ve arrived,” the driver announces from outside. 

“We’ll resume this another time. Remember to give me the signal once you have the file. I’ll have a carriage ready for you.” He pushes the door open and offers you a hand. “Military guests walk in through a different entrance. I will see you inside.”

Anything you touch feels smooth with the satin gloves, including the hand he uses to guide you out of the carriage. You hold the skirt of your dress and the folding fan on your other hand as you step out. 

The parliament house looks like a compressed image of the royal palace. Perhaps the equivalent of one fourth of the castle. Several plants and other forms of nature fill up the large area between the gates and the castle. The stagecoach went around a large fountain to stop right before the main entrance. 

You already feel intimidated. 

“One more thing.” Erwin pulls your attention back to him. He gives you the final piece of your outfit. 

It’s a black mask that conceals everything above your cheekbones. You trace your fingers over the feather attached to the top left side, feeling its soft texture and intricate design. The mask also comes with a structured netting that covers your entire face like a veil. It will do its job of hiding you.

You feel something else and realize it’s the invitation. Only those with the ticket have access to the party. 

“Be careful, Captain.” Erwin dips back into the stagecoach and shuts the door after him. 

You turn to the castle and push out a shaky exhale, letting the carriage drive away behind you as you take your first steps towards what could very well be hell on earth next to the outside world. Never has a building felt so terrifying. It feels as if it might swallow you at any moment. 

The captain of the Survey Corps, killer of titans, fears a masquerade party; how undignifying. 

You are quick to slip your mask on when you see someone. The MP just outside the main doors looks bored out of his mind without a partner to chat the night away with. He’s nodding off, eventually woken up by the sound of your steps on the stone stairs. His sour mood dissolves with a quick look in your direction. 

“Man, doesn’t feel like I’ve woken up at all.” He says the comment to himself, but doesn’t bother to keep you from hearing it. “Good evening, pretty lady. Right this way. Lemme help you up the stairs.” 

You’re five steps away from getting to the floor, but he races to offer his hand even so. You indulge him just to get it over with. 

“Main hall is a straight walk away, though I’d have no problem taking you there if you’d prefer. Beats standing around here doing nothing.”

You shake your head. 

It’s silly. You have never seen this man in your life and he likely doesn’t know you either, but your brain is tricking itself into believing suddenly he must be suspicious of you. 

He continues guiding you by the hand way past the end of the stairs. “Don’t be shy. We’re just here to keep the night safe for all of you important people.”

You force yourself to talk. “Appreciated, good sir.” 

“My pleasure. A pretty lady such as yourself makes it worth my time.” 

You slip your hand off. “I can take it from here. Thank you.” You offer a quick curtsy and continue on your own. 

The night is only just starting and the first guard forgot to ask for your invitation. It seems you were worrying over nothing after all. 

Past the large double doors lies a hallway of carpeted floors. You can see the intercepting corridors that surround the hall where the party is being held. Paintings of all sizes and themes decorate the walls. Just one hallway contains more money than you’ll get in a lifetime. 

“Miss,” a voice interrupts your ogling. An MP stands by the open doors of the hall, nodding at you in the direction you’re supposed to go. “Party is this way.”

Just like the gates and main doors outside, the entrance is an unnecessary wide gap that could fit a seven meter titan. You wonder if they need several people just to push open the large doors. 

A mix of soft music and chatter welcomes you inside. You can tell they put a lot of thought into making sure the place is properly illuminated. The room is crowded, not to the point where you would have to squeeze between shoulders to move around, but locating Erwin won't be so simple in these conditions. Men and women in fancy attires fill up the hall, a lot of them wearing masks that match the color of their attires. You notice the occasional military trench coat in the crowd, but suits and fluffy dresses prevail among the guests. 

The first floor houses the most activity, with not only guests walking around, but musicians taking up the stage above an elevated platform. Their current choice of song lends itself as background music for conversation. You figure people will hit the dance floor later on. A long table stretches nearly from wall to wall with a wide variety of food half the people in the walls will never see in a lifetime. 

A staircase ascends in a golden spiral to the second floor. Fewer people wander upstairs. It has the look of an indoor balcony bordering the layout of the hall. You can see bookshelves and statues in rows against the walls. 

A tower of a man walks past your field of vision without looking in your direction, snatching your attention. It would be impossible to miss a head of bright blond on top of a domineering physique even if he stood a long distance away. 

You follow him to the drinks station. An impressive pyramid of wine glasses stands on top of a square table. It's just for show, it seems, since everyone is picking a glass from the trays. 

You try to avoid looking at him too much, focusing instead on the array of drinks you can’t identify by name. If you weren’t in such a stressful situation, you would have pampered yourself with a couple of glasses. 

“Having a difficult time choosing?” Erwin's poised manner of speaking has a surprising calming effect. Even during social events, his presence emanates the greatness of a true leader. 

You glance at him behind the cover of your mask. He's offering you a flute glass with a golden-colored napkin wrapped around the bowl. 

“Care for some fruit punch?” he asks.

Your eyes slide from the drink to his blue gaze. You open your mouth to speak, several questions hanging on the tip of your tongue, but a woman approaching the table from the other side makes you jump back a step, your brain insinuating everyone's out to get you. 

She’s only there to grab a drink. 

“Thank you.” You accept the glass from Erwin and wait, expecting some form of clue or instruction as to how you should proceed. 

“Good evening.” 

He walks away. 

You gawk at his retreating back, grip tight around the glass. “Oh, come on,” you mutter to yourself. 

“It was never going to work, sweetie.”

You flinch, nearly yelping as you realize the woman is still on the other side of the table, a sneaky and very amused spectator to your brief exchange with the man. Her dress is of a vibrant blue color, quite full on the skirt that circles wide around her legs. She holds a mask to her face with a stick. 

“That's Section Commander Erwin Smith of the scouts.” She moves her hand to the side, showing a face covered in several layers of makeup. “He's good-looking, yes. Strikingly so. But a scout would not make for a good suitor, much less a husband. Heed my advice and try aiming for a military police officer.”

“Uh, yes.” You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

She lines the holes of the mask to her eyes and walks away. Now you realize why Erwin isn't taking any chances in talking to you. 

So now you have to figure out how the hell to proceed on your own. 

You're in desperate need of a drink. 

You raise the glass to your lips, tasting the first sip of fruit and alcohol, and then look down into the glass. 

Not one, but two keys lie inside the drink. 

You lower the glass and glare at the crowd Erwin disappeared into. Very amusing , you think, annoyed. The napkin was meant to conceal the small treasures inside. 

You head to the balcony on the far end of the hall, the only section with dim lighting and less people wandering around. It's hard to force your feet into a steady pace when you have a clear destination in mind, but you keep it casual as you walk. 

You can tell right away why no one is going to the balcony. The breeze outside is blowing your skirt and messing up your hairstyle. The brightness of the hall contrasts with the darkness outside, where a lonesome lamp post provides what little light there is. The tree Erwin mentioned is hard to miss, its thick arms stretching all the way to the second floor. 

You worm your hand out of your glove and sink three fingers into the drink, pulling out the keys from within, which you then dry with the napkin; your fingers as well before you slip the glove on. 

It's time. The mission starts now. You flick your fan open and hold it in front of your face, keys tucked between your fingers as you ventilate yourself to blur the sight of them in your hands. 

You can't help but think that everyone's watching you from the corner of their sight, speculating, judging you, but a deeper look confirms that's far from the truth. Each person is minding their own business. 

Paranoia is one hell of a drink. 

With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you make your way to the bathroom, leaving your glass on a table as you go. The map presented two options at your disposal. To the left and right side of the room. You pick the latter, hoping that fate or a god will bless your random choice. 

The double doors are wide open, no guards in sight as party guests flow in and out. You glance to the side, finding the staircase at the very end of the corridor. 

A quartet of MPs have pulled out chairs and are playing cards at the foot of the stairs. Your initial disappointment dissipates once you realize the guards on the other hallway must have migrated there to pass the time with their comrades, so there's a high chance the other staircase is clear. 

You swirl around and slink back into the crowd, sliding between shoulders towards the other side of the hall. You know you should be placing more caution to your step, make sure you're blending in with the people, but you don't want to risk missing what could very well be your only opening. 

You crash into the arm of someone you didn't notice, and the collision leaves a slight sting in its aftermath. A quick sorry murmured in their direction is all you offer without tearing your gaze from the front, focused on the goal. 

The doors are wide open with no guards in sight either. Erwin's hunch was right on the money. Granted, MPs slacking off isn't recent news to anyone who knows their work ethic. You were just overthinking everything. Maybe the plan won't be so difficult to carry out in the end. 

You even out the rhythm of your step for what's left of the journey. Past the doors, you check the staircase at the end of the hallway. 

No guards. You're in luck. And no one's wandering nearby. You won't get a better entrance than this. 

Your hand flicks faster, almost with a mind of its own, your nerves cranking up the heat in the hall. A step on the skirt of your dress stuns your pace for a second, but you let it go with a frustrated breath and continue walking.

“Is your sense of direction messed up?”

The blood in your system turns ice cold, freezing your step and every other muscle of yours.

“Restrooms are in the opposite direction.”

Shit. That depth, the even tone, its guarded nature; you would recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Hey,” he says, addressing you with a coldness you haven't received from him in a long while. “You're not deaf, are you?” 

Your heart is trying to beat out of your chest, eyes flickering all over the place with nowhere to settle. Your hand trembles, whole body damp with sweat underneath the dress. 

It shouldn't be so damn nerve-racking. Erwin laid out his ground rules, but that's only a meager part of the reason you're losing your mind. Your main concern is stupid— so stupid and unnecessary. 

What is he going to think if he recognizes you? It’s no mystery to either of you that your relationship is far from professional most of the time, but being seen in makeup and wearing an extravagant dress goes beyond your level of tolerance. 

Hearing the click of his heels makes you snap out of it, and you swirl around before he dares to get any closer. 

Levi stops when he sees your eyes. His face reveals nothing. 

He's in the same fit as every other military guest, the one difference being the scouts emblem both he and Erwin share. The trench coat hugs his body, held tight around his waist by a belt. Between the length of the coat and the boots he wears, his white trousers peek out just above the knee. 

It's only been three days since you last saw him, yet your eyes linger on him like it's been a month. 

“You rammed into me and didn't bat an eye,” he says, crossing his arms. “Whatever's got you in a hurry must be important.”

It was him. That would explain why it felt like you hit a wall. You weren't as lucky as you thought you were. He must have heard your whispered apology and recognized your voice. You can't think of a better reason as to why he would chase a random noblewoman minding her business. He'd be the last person to so much as lift a finger for the arrogant pigs running this place. 

“Now you're mute too?” 

It's like he's trying to force your hand. 

Your mouth opens. 

“Levi.” Erwin's voice emerges from within the hall, the embodiment of a god coming to your rescue. “There are people here that want to meet you. Do not forget why you're here.”

He doesn't answer, much less tear his eyes from you. His undivided attention crawls through your skin. He's waiting for you to do something. 

So be it then. The tension snaps like a cord that's pulled taut when you break eye contact, turning around and continuing towards the staircase without saying anything. 

Levi emanates confusion from where he stands. You don't need to look back to know it caught him off guard, though you can't guess whether he's less or twice as suspicious because of it. 

“Levi,” Erwin calls again, sounding less tolerant. 

“Don't give me that look. I've been bootlicking for three hours straight.”

“And you have several more to go. Come on.”

Impatience is a rare look on Erwin. You have to admit it's quite amusing. 

“Levi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Finally, Levi surrenders to his orders. “Loosen up. I was just taking a breather.”

You aren't sure if it's hyperawareness or just being overly anxious, but you're almost sure Levi's stare lingers on you a second too long, adding an invisible weight on your back. 

Focus, you remind yourself. The staircase is just up ahead. You stop behind a corner and peek into the intercepting hallway. The group of MPs loiter on the far end, still enjoying their game of cards. 

With large strides, you cross over and climb up the staircase, taking a short left on the split landing and proceeding to the second floor. 

You step into the point where two hallways connect to form and L shape. It's empty and quiet, the whispers of music coming from downstairs. The light is dimmer. Several doors stand at intervals on the walls. 

According to Erwin’s map, the library is on the other side of the square. 

You get to it. Your ears ring as you move your feet, and your pulse races, the quiet click of your heels stark in the silence. You can't escape the feeling that someone will be waiting for you when you turn a corner. Titan slaying sounds less complicated under your current circumstances. You're far beyond your area of expertise. 

The paintings on the walls seem to be judging you as well. Old men in coats and wigs reprimand your intrusion. It's as if their eyes are following you. Even the dog in one of them might start glowering at you at any moment. 

The door to the library is within sight when you take a left turn, flanked by two torches that shed light on the entrance like it were the gate to another dimension. The way to the balcony is right across it, a wide gap that takes up most the wall and allows view of the outside. You pull out one of the two keys at random and insert it into the knob. A soft click indicates your success on the first try. You open it with a gentle push to keep the hinges from screeching. 

It's dark on the other end. You pull one of the torches from the wall and step inside, closing the door behind you. 

Making out the structure of the library is a challenge. The most you can see are rows of bookshelves covering almost every inch of the floor. You saunter between them, moving the torch around to read the labels. Your breaths sound like echoes in your head. You start to fan yourself when the heat of the torch becomes too much. 

The offices are on the far end of the room. You slide the torch over the plates on each door until you find the one with the word archives. 

The work of the second key gets you inside. A desk stands at the center of the office with its respective set of chairs. You move the torch around and locate a file cabinet against the wall. 

This must be it, you think with relief. Now all that is left is to find the folder with Levi's name and retrieve it. 

You start with the first of four drawers. 

Hope withers as suddenly as it comes. The damn thing won’t budge no matter how hard you pull. It's locked. Tilting the torch closer, you realize another four keys are needed, one for each drawer. 

“You're fucking kidding me,” leaves you through a wayward breath. “Goddammit. What a fucking pain.” You don't think Erwin saw this coming. How will you inform him without drawing suspicion from nearby people?

You search the bookshelves and any part of the room even remotely suspicious, but it proves to be futile in the end. No key and, most certainly, no files.

You walk around some more on your way out, testing the keys on different knobs to no avail. 

Your trip back to the hall is laden with defeat. You make sure the guards are still distracted before you step back into the corridor to rejoin the stream of people. 

Now the activity is concentrated in the center of the hall, where couples make use of the dancefloor. Skirts sway around, led by masked men in fancy suits taking their partner across the stage. The musicians are playing a nice, classical harmony to slow dance to. 

It'll be harder to find Erwin, not that there's much information you can pass on without attracting onlookers. Your current hand of cards is useless, and you hate that your only choice is to wait it out. For what? You don't know. Maybe a miracle. 

You need a drink. A drink without keys inside. The least you owe yourself is an expensive indulgence you needn't pay for. 

The table of drinks overflows with variation in spite of the influx of people stopping by. The servants are making sure the station remains packed through the night. Oh, the joys of having too much money. 

You choose what appeals to you the most. 

“A woman of expensive taste, eh? Nice choice.”

Surprised, you nearly spill the beverage on you. “What—oh.” You turn, meeting an unexpected blue pair of eyes. Your jaw would have dropped to the floor if it wasn't attached to your face. 

Ludwig's lidded stare settles on you, a deep flush dusting over his freckled nose and sharp cheekbones. His copper-colored hair has been slicked back with gel, and only a few flyaways have fallen over his forehead. He wears the military trench coat with the green mare as an insignia, wine glass in hand. 

You turn away to scowl in privacy. Why is he here? 

“Don't be shy,” he slurs, taking a swig of his glass. “No need to be modest around me. You by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Really now? Who're you with?” 

Without looking, you jut out your finger in a random direction. 

He laughs. “You came with the groom? That's funny. I like a funny lady.” 

“God,” you mutter in silence, resenting whatever deity that put this man in your path. You guzzle your drink, savoring the tangy mix. This must be your monthly salary compressed into one sip. 

“Funny and bold. I like that. You're my type of woman.”

“Please don't—”

“Whaddaya say we hit the dance floor?”

You raise your hand to deny him entrance into your personal space. “I don't dance.”

“I don't believe that. A pretty noblewoman always knows her way around dancing.”

Your patience is running thin. “Listen—” The ring of keys hanging from his belt catches your attention. You pause. “Do you… work here?” 

He lowers his empty glass. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fresh out of a promotion. You see, 'm a very important man.” 

You hum, interested now that you have a good reason to interact with him. Erwin did mention the man in charge of that office was freshly hired. “And what does a very important man do around here?”

He picks another glass from a passing servant with a tray. “Heavy work. Serious military matters.”

You want to roll your eyes into the back of your skull but refrain from doing so. “Paperwork?” 

“Yeah, that too.”

“What kind of paperwork?” 

“I'm not really interested in talkin' about work right now.” He downs the drink and leaves the empty glass aside. “What I am very interested in is taking a pretty lady to the dance floor.”

You want to skin yourself alive. “Fine,” you drawl, needing more time to determine whether or not he's worth your time. You leave your glass on the table. 

A victorious grin takes pride in his accomplishment. He extends his hand for you to take. 

This feels like a fever dream. You can't believe you're putting yourself through this torture. 

You let yourself be guided to the dance floor, and it's only after you're surrounded by an audience of at least a hundred that you begin to lose your nerve. Even worse than dancing with your ex is being sighted committing the act by the one person you pray doesn’t see.  

“On second thought—” 

He pulls you from your arm so you're standing toe to toe. He guides your hand to his shoulder and places his own on the small of your back. It's a rather intimate touch that makes you flinch. The smell of alcohol hits you in your proximity. You haven't been this close to his face in a long time. His drunken stupor gives him a slight, messy look. You doubt he will recognize you or remember half of the night when he wakes up tomorrow. 

He secures your other hand in a tight grip and takes the lead in swaying you around before you can attempt to shove a word in. 

This is uncomfortable, stupid, surreal, degrading; you can't believe you're doing this for a mission. The scouts better be up and running for the next century, so help you God. 

“Not one step on my feet,” he says. “What did I tell you?” His hand takes you through a full spin, and you make sure your heel finds the tip of his shoe when you’re face to face again. 

He flinches, face pinching with discomfort. 

“Whoops,” you drawl. “You jinxed it.” 

“Did I? Maybe you're just nervous.”

“What made you draw that conclusion?” Your disinterest reflects in the dull sound of your voice.

“I have a sharp eye for women.”

“You don't say? You can read our thoughts?” 

“And very damn need, missy.”

Personal experience says otherwise, but you won't entertain it any longer. “So…” you begin. “An important military man, hm? How do you spend your day in your office, good sir?” 

“Call me Ludwig.”

“Ludwig.”

“What's your name?”

“Lina,” you say the first name that pops in your head. “So how—” 

“Pretty name for a pretty lady. One could name a flower after you.”

“Okay. Could you please answer—” 

He drags you through a spin again, then pulls you in so your chests press together. “I like your eyes. I bet that mask doesn't do you any justice.” His words blow on your face as warm puffs of air, the smell of alcohol predominant. 

You're one more attempt away from kicking him in the balls. “Why do you carry so many keys?” You don't have the patience to skirt around the subject anymore. 

Fortunately, he's too drunk to question anything. “Keys open cabinets 'n stuff. I handle a lot of very important paperwork.”

“Criminal Files? Records?” 

“Amongst them, yeah.”

“Where's your office?” 

“Second floor, last I checked. Just above.”

You were in Ludwig's office then. You can't believe your luck. Your eyes flick down to the ring of keys on his belt. 

He spins you again. 

This time, when you finish the turn, your hand falls on his waist. 

He grins. “Getting bold, are we?” 

“You misread my—” 

“I say we get away from the crowd.”

You resist the first pull. “Wait—” 

“I don't bite. Not too hard anyway.” He urges you to follow him. 

“Ludwig—” 

A plow to the ribs yanks his hand out of yours. Ludwig stumbles on his feet while the aggressor steals his place. 

“We're switching partners,” he announces, leading you away to let Ludwig get swallowed by the crowd. 

Your breath hitches, the start of Levi's name stuck in your throat. His palm slides to the small of your back with a gentle approach, as if you were a precious doll in his care, and settles there, the touch crawling up your bones like flames. 

His scent invades your whole world the moment he takes a step towards you, so sweet from the tea he usually drinks and clean like linen sheets and citrusy soap, with just a hint of shaving cream. 

He takes your hand in his, and the feeling of something cold manages to pull you out of your stupor. You realize he's keeping a ring of keys between your palm and his. The same set you were trying to steal from Ludwig. 

Your stare flits back to his face, where the gray of his eyes shines like precious stones in front of a fire. He's so close you could kiss him, lose yourself on his lips in the middle of the room without a care in the world. You're dough in his hands, malleable to Levi's will as he takes you across the floor. 

Everyone else disappears; your surroundings blur; the music fades away. Soon, it's just you and Levi striding to the beat of an exciting limbo, a similar dance to the one that starts upon every encounter behind closed doors, now exposed under the blinding lights of an infinite hall. 

“Are you going to insist on staying mute?” His words are on your face, and his deep tone makes your knees weak. His hold on you is firm but mindful, as if a stronger squeeze could break you. 

You keep swaying and swaying to nothing but the ringing in your ears and the mix of your breaths. You must be looking as dumbstruck as you feel. 

His eyes bore into yours, breaking down every detail of your face in an attempt to figure you out behind the mask. He must be aware, but you aren't making it easy with your silence. You don't even know what to say. You can only think about the fact that he’s so close he could kiss you if he wanted to and you wouldn’t do anything to stop it. 

He steps back, his touch slipping away. The spell ends right then and your surroundings regain focus. He guided you out of the crowd and has left you a straight walk away from the doors.

He disappears into the masses without a word. 

You keep your fist tight around the set of keys in your palm. Levi somehow caught on and helped you. 

God, you adore this man. 

With the folding fan opened over your face, you do your best to hide the keys. Everyone has their attention locked on the dance floor, so you take that chance to slink out of view. 

Past the double doors, you almost crash into the woman from earlier in your haste. The one with heavy makeup and the blue dress. She was coming out of the restroom.

The curve of her lips shows an amused smile. “I see you didn't heed my heartfelt advice. Though if you were really going to be insistent about the scouts, why swap the commander for a little grump of black eyes?”

Your attempt at walking away concludes right then. “Silvery blue,” leaves you without thinking.

“Hm?” 

“His eyes are silvery blue. Not black. And he's the most handsome man I have ever seen.” 

She is caught off guard, speechless even as you move past her, having stated the facts like it's common knowledge. 

Leaving the woman behind, you continue down the corridor, making sure she has gone back inside the hall before you scurry up the stairs, still with no guards in sight. 

You're more at ease on your second journey, enough that you can stay level-headed and focused on what's ahead of you. 

You take a left and step into the hallway where the door to the library resides. You have your eyes on the prize, already searching through your collection of keys for the correct one. With careful movements, you try to keep the clinking of metal against metal to a minimum. 

A laugh echoes across the floor, freezing your step. You whip your head up to cast your eyes on the corner of the hallway, where the voices seem to be coming from. You start hearing the heels of boots against the floor not long after, about to step into your hallway. 

Your lips form a soundless curse, panic bubbling in your chest. You gyrate back to the direction you came from and make a quiet run for it. Your grip on the keys is knuckle-white so they don't dare to make a sound as you scuttle for safety. 

The staircase is within sight at the end of the corridor. You pick up your pace. 

Luck isn’t on your side tonight. Incoming chatter at the end of the stairs halts your step with such vigor you almost trip on the skirt of your dress. More people are arriving. Your heart is punching holes through your ribcage, chest swelling with the lack of air in your lungs. You're cornered from both sides. 

The mission has failed. You're done for, and you will never recover from this. The moment they realize you're the captain of the scouts, you will no doubt be immediately expelled. And you'll have to carry the burden on your own, because you wouldn't be so selfish as to take Erwin from the scouts; from humanity.

You squeeze your eyes and wait for the world to end. 

The door next to you flies open. A gasp escapes you, feet jumping a whole step back, and before you can formulate any other thoughts, a hand juts out from the dark, fingers clasping around your wrist, to haul you inside. 

The door closes after you with a gentle click, your savior standing against it to keep track of the steps on the other side. 

Moonlight filters through the single window in the office. You can't make out more than the black silhouette of a man, but an outline is all you need to recognize Levi. 

You're frozen in place, back turned against him, as you both wait for the noise to die outside. Both pairs of guards shoot a quick greeting at each other before departing in opposite directions, leaving the corridor outside desolate once again. 

A second passes, then another, neither of you ready to take any chances so soon. Eventually, Levi slices through the silence with a soft sigh. “Do I even want to know?” he whispers. 

You can't find the words to say back. You've been devoid of them the whole night. The dress, the mask, the makeup; all unbecoming of an army captain; the embarrassment of being spotted dancing with Ludwig for a few keys; your laughable performance trying to sneak in; you can't bring yourself to face him. 

“Why the hell are you here?” he asks. 

He has yet to fully grasp what’s going on and yet he helped you with your mission anyway. His trust in you runs deeper than you imagined. 

“Hey,” he calls, tired of being ignored. “Give it up already. We were face to face. You think I wouldn't recognize your eyes?”

The heavy sigh you push out comes woven with a groan. “Levi, you aren't supposed to be here. Your duty is downstairs.”

“Yeah, thank God I no longer give a shit. Or you'd be getting escorted out of here by four MPs. And over what? The hell did Erwin ask of you? Because he's behind this, obviously. This lunacy wouldn't come from just anyone.”

“It's not any of your concern. This mess is between Erwin and myself.” Levi would lose it if he found out it's all related to him. 

“Now I made it my problem. Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to get back to the event.”

“I'm not leaving you here.”

“I won't be long, Levi.”

“Fantastic. We can go back together then.”

You groan. “Erwin knew you would react like this. We're proving him right. I'm sure it won't go unaddressed for much longer. Levi, he has caught on.”

“So he knew this whole thing was risky. And he still sent you without me. Damn bastard.” 

“Did you even hear half of what I said—” 

“Why do you keep your back turned at me?” 

“Levi, just go.”

“You're hiding.” He says this like he's slowly starting to get it. You hear the soft click of his heels as he approaches. 

“I'm ordering you to—” 

“Why are you hiding from me?” He stops behind you, grazing your bubble of personal space without touching you. 

You squeeze your fan. “You aren't even obeying me.” A frustrated sigh escapes you. “This… character I'm playing— it's ridiculous. It's unfitting for my position. I don't look like myself right now. I'm just…”

“Beautiful.” His tone is quiet, but he also sounds so certain about it. 

Your stomach swells with air and sparks and a million butterflies.

“You look beautiful,” he repeats. “So you still look like yourself.” The dark protects him; it offers him the chance to communicate with the words that usually fail him. 

You're also thankful for the lack of light. It's easier to let yourself be disarmed. The blood rushes to your face, your temperature skyrockets, and it feels as though steam might come out through your ears at any moment. You don't think you have ever given yourself the liberty of letting your features twist with the raw emotions in your heart. 

You can only manage shy whispers. “And you—you look handsome.” 

God, you feel like a damn kid. 

He hums in your ear. His hand settles on your waist and burns you with his touch. “I heard you. Downstairs. That complicated way of saying gray.”

You release a nervous laugh. “How embarrassing.” 

“No.” His other hand finds your shoulder, and he presses into you, erasing more space between you. “I can't believe you only look at me—look at me in that particular way. I won't get more lucky than this.”

He feeds you boldness with his open display. It's surprising how quickly his thoughts just spill from his mouth, like he let go of his control over them.

You turn your face to the side, brushing your cheek against the tip of his nose. Your mouth is slack, lidded eyes staring off into the dark. “... you are the most handsome man. I could go on and on for hours, list the reasons to every pompous woman in this castle.”

Levi's heart is trying to beat out of his chest. “I only need you to say it. You're the only one I see.”

You can't feel your bones anymore. You barely register the movement of your feet as you turn around, guided by Levi's soft pull. “Levi, you're…” In the dark, you bask in his proximity and feel his hot pants on your lips, motionless as he takes your mask off. “You're killing me, Levi.”

“So I must already be six feet under.” 

He steals what little air you had left with the fervent kneading of his lips on yours and pushes in like a single extra second apart from you could kill him. The mask falls by your feet, then his hands come up to hold the sides of your face, thumbs dusting across your cheekbones in a wordless expression of sweet nothings. 

Your tongues find each other, white-hot and desperate. With a quiet thud, the fan hits the floor beside your mask. You fist his longer strands of hair, which feel even softer through the satin gloves you wear, and fuse your mouths to the point where they can only open wide against each other. 

Your back hits a wall and Levi suddenly stops. When your hooded eyes flutter open, a replica of your drunken stupor stares back at you. The moonlight flashing through the window beside you brings out a color that's unmistakably blue, and you could swear right then that you're deeply in love. 

He's breathless, brows woven together above a gaze that speaks a thousand words in one, short moment. 

You've been dumbed down to an empty mass that only feels for the man in front of you. “Levi…”

He's on you again. His mouth opens and your tongues intertwine. The energy leaves your system, body slumping against him like a damsel in distress, and your head lolls to the side, too heavy for you to keep straight. He adjusts to the new angle so your lips don't come apart. 

Your hearts are desperate to meet. His chest molds to your liquid figure and holds you between him and the wall. You feel an amalgamation of life in you; everything twists and throbs and flutters, your body going into a delicious overdrive only he is capable of causing. 

The energy, already so high, spikes up like heat in a drought. You're pushing against each other, heaving, moaning into the other. You imagine this must be the euphoria addicts refuse to give up. You just can't let him go. You can't let him go ever. 

“Need you,” gets woven between kisses. “Levi, I…”

His hand descends, passing heat down the length of your neck, your side, going around your waist and trailing even lower still. He's mapping your body like he has never touched it before, the tight dress leaving little to the imagination above the fluffy skirt. 

You shudder, ready to give him everything. 

A thump disrupts the moment, snaps it like an overused band. You end the kiss to look sideways, where before you didn't notice a sculpture on a podium. It was nearly pushed off the surface with the frantic movements of your bodies. The close call blares in your head like an alarm, and it disperses the fog that was pressing down on your thoughts. 

“The… the files,” you slur between pants. “Gotta finish the mission.”

He's equally breathless. “Right. I'm coming too.” 

Without the energy or mental capacity to pick up the argument, you accept the mask and keys he gathers from the floor. 

He moves for the door, and you follow. 

“How did you open this room?” you ask. 

“Lockpicked it.” He pats down his hair and fixes his cravat. “Whatever we're doing could have been finished faster if it wasn't for Erwin's new fixation on keeping us apart.”

“We're not exactly proving him wrong. There are priorities. Currently, you are it. We can't risk your image. Now more than ever.”

“The scouts aren't my priority. You're—”

A pit forms in your stomach. “The scouts are your priority.”

He looks at you without saying anything, then places his hand on the knob. 

“Hey.” You step closer. “You serve the scouts. The cause. Not me.”

It's a halfhearted attempt at fixing months of damage. You haven't really worked towards making him the devoted war machine Paradis' military needs. Instead, you've made him more human, more imperfect, terrenal. 

“Sure,” he says, not that either of you believe him. 

It isn't the right time or place to break down the situation, anyway. You don't add anything as he opens the door and checks the hallway. 

“It's clear.” The light from outside pours into the room. You walk out with Levi following behind you like a personal guard. “Are we infiltrating Ludwig's office or what?” he whispers. 

The mention of his name makes you recoil with embarrassment, a reminder of the moment you subjected yourself to in front of many eyes—his eyes. “So it seems. I had no idea he was in charge of records.”

You unlock the library door and step inside, reaching for one of the torches to illuminate the room.

His hand stops you. “Someone will notice the thing is missing if they pass by.”

“Oh.” You didn't consider that the first time you took it from the wall. “Right.” At least you know your way around the library now. 

It's pitch black. There are no windows that can provide any aid. You have to move with your hands in front of you to avoid crashing into furniture, though when you reach the rows of bookshelves, it's easier to get to the offices from there. 

You count the doors and arrive at Ludwig's workspace. “Didn't Erwin ask you to pickpocket for him?” 

“There's a room with the keys to every door in this palace. I got them from there. I imagine personnel with private offices get to carry copies with them.”

You step inside and pry open the curtains on top of the cabinet. The moonlight provides decent enough visibility to get the job done. 

Levi steps closer. “This is the lock in question?” He sounds far from impressed. “I could have picked it with a needle.”

“Okay, Levi. I get it. You're more suited for this than me. We just didn't want to risk it.”

“I can guarantee you I would have not been caught.”

You open the first drawer and begin your search. “But your disappearance could raise some brows if anyone were to notice, and with how fragile our situation is, any crumb of suspicion can determine whether or not we convince the parliament.”

You sort through different names, briefly checking records here and there, and manage to decipher the patterns. The files are of people who have been convicted. Levi, on the other hand, has never been caught, so you're likely after a red notice of sorts. Any type of document detailing as much. 

Done with the first drawer, you proceed to the second one. 

“When did you arrive in Mitras?” he asks. 

“Yesterday.”

“How were you allowed entry into the party?” 

“Erwin got me a ticket.”

He huffs. “Not as virtuous as he pretends to be, hm?” 

“He plucked a criminal out of the underground and got his misdeeds erased. Then dumped it all on a poor woman so she would fix his murderous tendencies. What else did you think?” 

“I think she managed just fine.”

You release a quiet laugh. “I guess she did—oh.” You shove the file under the moonlight, confirming the written name on the cover. “Perf—” It slips from your fingers, taken by Levi's hand. 

He runs a quick scan of its contents. “You're kidding.” His voice is flat, barely keeping his patience together. “It doesn't concern you, you said? This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

You sigh. 

“I would have strangled Erwin if I heard you had gotten yourself caught because of this.”

“Just let it go, Levi. We got what we wanted.” You rise to your feet, shut the curtains and head for the door. 

“I don't think you realize how risky this was.” He follows behind you. “Your standing would've—” 

“Of course I know that, Levi.” Hand on the knob, you turn to face him. “But I didn't want to risk you being sent back to the underground or sentenced because of this.” 

He stares at you in silence. What little light filters through the curtains gives some definition to his frame. “... or risk the scouts disbanding.” 

Oh, right. That too. Priorities.  

You hum like it's only obvious and then step out. 

The little huff he emits behind you kind of resembles a laugh. He closes the door so you can lock it. 

“Give me the keys,” he says. “I'll put them back on the sorry bastard.”

You comply. “By all means.”

With the orange glow sneaking under the library door, your way out of this place looks quite literally like the light at the end of the tunnel. You can't wait to let go of all the tension you've accumulated through the hours and collapse in the safety of your hotel room. 

You run into a desk, its sharp corner stabbing you on the waist. The curse you do your best to swallow accomplishes nothing, seeing as several items fall by your feet as your recoil; pens roll, papers rustle and something made of glass shatters. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling that assaulted spot throbbing. 

“Are you okay—?” 

The sound of steps in the hallway cut his sentence short. Levi places a hand on your back and ushers you away. 

Hidden behind a bookshelf, the two of you watch as the door flies open and someone enters with a torch in hand. 

Levi keeps you tucked between the shelf and his back, arm stretched behind him so his treasure stays locked inside the strongbox he created with his frame. 

“What now?” A second MP joins the first one. 

“I could have sworn I heard something.”

You hide behind Levi like said act could make you both invisible. The quick thump of your heart feels too loud in the silence. 

“You're just paranoid because we came late into our shift,” the second man says. He stays by the entrance, lacking the interest to help with the investigation.

“Lucky bunch we'd be if someone was actually sneaking in,” he grumbles to his companion, moving the torch around as he searches. “And on our first week on the job.”

“No one gives a damn about a library, Douglas. Just close the door.”

“Lemme have a look around first.”

The lax MP sighs. 

Levi retreats into you, then turns and secures a grip on your arm to take you around the shelf, avoiding the guard that was getting too close for comfort. You surrender to Levi's guidance, at a loss for what to do. 

“Come on, Douglas. This is ridiculous.”

“Shut up and go back to your post, Conall. Let me do my job.”

“Hold on.” His tone becomes serious. “Shit, I think I see something.”

You clutch Levi's bicep, both of you halting your quiet steps. Your heart is in your throat. 

Douglas tenses. “Are you fucking serious right now?” 

“Here, look. Bring the torch.”

They start heading towards the far right of the library, bringing their bubble of orange light with them. Levi slinks his arm around your shoulders and takes you away, tracing a wide circle to the left behind the bookshelves. 

“I don't see anything.”

“It's over there.”

You watch them walk past the desk you knocked into, too nervous to make any guesses as to what else they could have noticed. The pair of MPs have their backs turned, and Levi takes that chance to walk you both to the exit. 

“What, Conall?” He's impatient. 

You slip back into the light with Levi directly behind you. 

Conall screeches from inside, halting your step. You jump out of your skin. 

“Fucking hell, Conall!” Douglass growls when his partner starts laughing. “Real fucking mature.”

It was just a prank. 

Levi recovers faster than you do. He pushes you forward, bringing your feet back to life. 

“Now that the mystery is solved,” Conall sounds very amused, “we can go back.”

You're prepared to make a run for the staircase, but Levi extends his hand in front of you to stop you dead in your tracks. His arm muscles make it feel like you are crashing into a fence. 

What now? The question is soon answered with more voices coming from the next hallway, a corner standing between you and total exposure. 

Now it's your turn to take his arm and guide him. Erwin's voice blesses your thoughts with a reminder that might save your lives. 

You change your course to the balcony. The entrance is impossible to miss, given that it takes up most of the wall on the opposite side to the library. 

The night air ventilates your face and makes your dress billow out. You throw a leg over the guardrail while Levi helps you with the skirt so you don't trip to your death. Your other leg joins its partner, giving you proper leverage to place your first step on the thick branch of the giant tree. 

You can't decide what's more intimidating; the risk of being caught or the deadly distance separating you from solid ground. It's dangerous, and your brain won't stop blaring its internal alarms, but the pumps of adrenaline keep your body up and moving. 

Levi follows with quicker and more agile feet. He gets on the tree and supports your steady descent. 

Your dress keeps getting caught on sharp ends. You think one of your gloves ripped open. The mask and the fan fell somewhere into the dark void below at some point, your hands too busy keeping the file secure against your chest. The night has turned out to be far from what fairy tales usually look like. 

Levi is the first one to touch the floor of the balcony below. His hands reach for your waist and pluck you off the trunk before you can start the action yourself. He wraps his arms around you and stumbles with the momentum of his own strength, leading you both to a wall. 

He leans against it, panting hot air into your neck, where his face is buried. Your pulse is in your ears, his frantic heartbeat not too far behind it. You're shaking with the folder still in your hold.

The turmoil clouding your head begins to disperse with the passing seconds. You look around you, taking in the safe haven that is this empty and dimly-lit balcony. You're slumped against the wall beside the entrance, and no one indoors can see you. 

The sturdy outline of his chest jerks against your cheek, a short breath blowing into the hollow of your neck; then it jerks again, and again, and again, until the sound of husky laughter crashes down on you like a titan falling from the sky. 

“What the hell?” he says, his tone so light. “This entire thing was ridiculous.”

You relax against him, inspired to laugh as well. “Straight out of a novel.”

“We could sell the premise to Egon Huber. It would fit the dumbassery he writes.” 

You have to hold a cackle in. “He still wouldn't do it justice.”

“He wouldn't.” His voice returns to a steady rhythm, and when he lifts his head to find your eyes, he shows the face of someone who's deeply enamored. “I doubt there'd be someone out there who could describe how you look in this dress.”

Your body tingles, knees about to collapse. You would have never seen it coming. “Try,” squeezes past the knot in your throat. 

He dusts his fingertips back and forth on your cheek. His other hand holds you by the waist. “Too beautiful. It's almost painful to look at you. I'm… no. I don't know. I'm not good at this.”

“I want to hear it,” you whisper. “Anything you say, I want to hear it.” 

He gathers the courage for it. “I feel like I'll go mental if I look at you for too long and don't touch you. You're… everything. You're everything. You make my heart stall.” His whispers are so quiet, loaded with secrets he's entrusting to you. “I… feel weak. You disarm me.” He leans closer, lips hanging on the edge of a kiss. “You're too beautiful. You're… too much. Shit, I'm still not saying anything right.” 

“No, you're perfect.” You wrap an arm around his nape. “Just… just kiss me—”

A tight breath rips from him when he falls against your lips, proof of all the tension that kept his body hostage while he professed his thoughts. His whole palm lands on your cheek to replace his fingertips, his touch hot on your skin. The hand on your waist pulls you flush against him, and you find yourself wishing the space taken by your clothes was gone. Such a thin barrier feels like an entire cliff between your bodies. 

He rambles on with the way he kisses you, trying to get his initial point across. His mouth is hot and loving on yours, dragging with the weight of heavy emotions he doesn't know where else to put. His hand treats you like you were a precious crystal in his hold, and every little sound of his feeds life into you. You would abandon everything if it meant you could stay in this moment forever. 

“Oh.”

The bubble bursts. You and Levi look to the side. 

The lady in blue is trying to hold back an amused smile behind her mask. “My bad. I shall take myself back out.”

When privacy is returned to you, a sigh leaves you. “Right, we're still dealing with this shitty party. I have to find Erwin.”

He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone before releasing you. “You need another mask. I'll find you one.”

Your expression softens. “Yeah, okay.”

While he goes back inside, you stand in the dark with your hand on your chest, feeling your heart long for his return. Tonight didn't go as planned, but you don't have any complaints about that. 

Your next chance at privacy can't come soon enough. 

Chapter Text

You slump into the seat of the carriage and push out a long breath, muscles turning into liquid now that the looming sense of danger is gone. 

Erwin had a stagecoach at the ready. He was only waiting for your signal. Needless to say, he wasn't entirely pleased to receive the news from Levi, whom he'd been looking for around the hall. 

He told you to keep the document with you and return to the lodging house until he was released from his duties at the party, an order you had no quarrels about seeing through. 

You pull your mask off and toss it across the cabin, feet perching on the edge of the seat to take some pressure off your soles. “God,” slips through the raspy groan you release. “I'm never doing this again.”

A heavy pat on the outside of the carriage makes you flinch. “We’re leaving.” You hear it being spoken to the driver before the door flings open and Levi steps in. 

“ Wait, Levi?” Though the edge in your tone expresses disapproval, your feet drop so he has the space to sit down. “What about Er—?”

“I snuck out.” He reaches for your arm, fingers clasping tight around your wrist. 

“You’re not supposed to be here— ah!” You're ripped off the seat and pulled over Levi's lap. Your knees sink into the cushion and settle against the outer part of his thighs for stability. 

“Do you want me to die?” He whispers this against your face, a reminder to keep your voice down lest the driver outside hears. “I have to have you. Right now.” His hand closes around your nape and tugs you in, mouth pushing into yours like he needs your heat to survive. 

Your eyes close. “Levi,” you moan around his tongue, the sound of his name muffled. “He’ll be pissed.” Yet you don't stop kissing him. You physically can't. It would be the same as tearing a part of you off. 

“I don’t care.”

“He suspects too much.” 

“Two rounds and I’ll go back.”

Your hand rises to splay over the wiry hairs of his undercut. “One.”

“Two.”

You don't bother with a reply, realizing you would only be lying to yourself. He's getting hard, and you're already dripping through your underpants. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the dress, the setting. Maybe it was him or the fun of nearly being caught; maybe it was all of it combined. 

Maybe it's realizing you could be falling head over heels for this incredible man. 

His touch climbs up your back, hot and undiluted as if he's grazing naked skin. He steals the air from your lungs with his tongue and feeds from your little moans. Clothes rustle as you grind into each other, layers you wish were already gone. 

His face dips down, lips trailing the line of your jaw. “God,” he breathes hard against your skin. “Is looking like this even legal?”

You can only gasp his name. 

“You should have seen yourself walking in that hall.” He holds your cheeks in both palms and tilts your head back so you meet his blown-out eyes. “Fuck, you had me on my fucking knees. Damn you.”

He doesn't want to hide behind anything while he tells you this secret. His stare bores into yours to show you how serious he is, a look that is raw and honest; filled with so much silver and blue. 

You're panting heavily into his face, brows tugged into a wanton pair of eyes that look at him like he's the only man that matters in this world. Your hands hold his wrists so he doesn't dare to let go of your face. 

“I bet you weren't even aware of how many men were looking at you,” he rasps. 

A quiet breath leaves you, the weakest of laughs. “Don’t tell me you were jealous.” 

“They don’t get to have you. If anything I felt sick arrogance.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat. “Because you’re right. You’re so fucking right. They don’t get to have me. Just you, Levi. Just you.” 

“Just me.” 

Your lips crash with the exhilaration spurring the two of you on. It's a mess of saliva and quiet whimpers; teeth on each other, noses rubbing, lashes intertwining. His hands hold you tighter, and your arms around his nape haul him in like he isn't already sprawled all over you. 

“Keep talking, Levi,” you say into his mouth. “Please.” You want to hear every thought in his head with the depth you've only ever witnessed from his voice, now groggy with the need festering for you. 

“Fuck.” He releases your face and grabs the sides of your waist, prying you off him to lie you down on the opposite seat. He follows right after. His knee wedges between your thighs so he can hold himself above you with his hands on either side of your head. One foot plants itself on the floor of the carriage for balance. 

“You’re perfect. So perfect.” His whispers are small but certain, spoken with his bare eyes on yours. “You make me feel like a—a mortal. A human. Fuck, thank you. You make me so human.”

If this is what it feels like to drown, you would jump into water the first chance you get. You cling to his back, just touching him, basking in the fact that this heavenly man is all yours. 

He kisses you again while his arm begins to descend your torso with eager fingertips. Your stomach sinks with the meager weight of them, air escaping your lungs. He gathers the skirt of your dress and pushes it aside, then, finally, his palm presses whole into your bare thigh. 

It climbs up, too desperate to stall any longer, and finds your clitoris over your underpants. 

Your legs fling up and knock into his sides, the single touch crashing down on you like it took hours of edging to get to this point. Already so sensitive, you throw your head back with a silent scream dangling from your slack mouth. 

He drops over you and squashes you into the seat, but you welcome the pressure on top of you, the heat of his body and the finger burying between your legs. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and slam your head down, lips pursed to prevent any sounds from leaving you. 

Ragged breaths tear from his lungs while he watches you, as always finding pleasure in the reactions you give him. “I belong to you,” he says with the vigor of a devoted man. 

“Levi—” 

“We've arrived,” comes from outside. The moment is disrupted, and that's when you both realize the stagecoach has stopped. 

A bed. You need a bed. 

You give Levi half a second to rise before you're rushing yourself, throwing your feet on the floor and flinging the door open with Levi's file in hand. “Thank you,” you say to the driver on your way out, Levi following behind you like a shadow. 

The doors to the lodging house receive the same harsh treatment. Inside, Mrs. Lina jumps from her lax position, then soon after relaxes once she recognizes you. 

“Here already?” She steps away from the counter to receive you, but your stride doesn't slow down and neither does Levi's.

“I put in an appearance out of formality.” You're considerate enough to slide your palm between her and your companion for a quick introduction as you're passing by her. “This is Levi. We’ll be upstairs.”

He stops to offer the woman a brief nod in what appears to be an attempt to throw her suspicions off, but you're already going up the staircase by then and he's forced to pick up the pace in order to keep you within his line of sight. Subtlety is the least of your worries right now. You need this man in you. 

You speed through the hallway and arrive at your room, then jam the key into the hole of the knob. The door gets thrown open. You step into the dark and turn around to receive Levi, who doesn't waste a second before he's all over you, heel swinging behind him to kick the door close. 

He licks heat and tingles into you with the deep roll of his tongue. Your limbs shake not only because of the bliss running through your veins but also the stream of heavy emotions that have been growing and growing as the days go by. It’s a rush that can only be tamed by the same man that carries your heart in his hand. 

The dress is too heavy, the skirt too wide. It’s bad enough to be dealing with the white heat that fell into the room when you both walked inside. You drop the file and reach behind you for the laces, groaning at the immediate struggle of getting them undone. 

“Not yet,” he grumbles. 

“I want this off.”

“Not yet.” He guides your step with a firm grip on your waist. His frantic lips keep you busy as he takes the two of you through the dark room. You get lost in the taste of him, the hard feel of his body and in the constant graze of his erection on your thigh. 

Before you realize it, the back of your knees hit the bed and you collapse on the mattress, arms sprawled beside your head. Levi’s shadow looms over you. In the darkness, you can’t discern his expression, but the tight breath he releases isn’t fearful of exposing his feverish thoughts, and neither is his mouth. 

“I could fuck you all night in this dress.” He fumbles with the belt around his waist to undo the buckle. 

Your walls flutter, but you voice your complaints with a groan. 

“That’s fine,” he adds, now working his trench coat apart to shrug it off his shoulders. He’s wearing a white shirt underneath. “That’s why we’re doing two rounds. One with and one without.” 

When the trench coat slides off his arms, Levi reaches for your waist. A firm grip drags you up the bed so your head lands on the pillow. You could swear your ribcage tears open with your heart in between when you find Levi crawling on his hands and knees until he’s over you. 

The spots beside your head sink with the weight of his forearms. His face dips down. A single push through your lips and he's back inside your mouth.

He fans the flames of your pleasure with each stroke of his tongue and roll of his hips against yours. A pit forms in your navel, right where your cunt kisses the rear of your stomach, making it so that the hunger in you only grows stronger the more he gives you. 

His sudden reprieve allows the first proper mouthful of air into your lungs. Levi skims down the bones and ridges of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in spite of barely pressing into your skin. It feels as though his lips might burn you if they linger on the same spot for too long. 

In search of an anchor to hold on to, your hands close into tight fists around his longer strands of hair. They’re soft between your fingers, coal-black like a moonless sky, slick with gel and cedar-scented from the shampoo he typically uses. 

When he claims a spot on your clavicle, your fingers tug on instinct, and his resulting moans pour through hot puffs on your skin; yours shoot into the ceiling as you tilt your head up to expose more to him. 

He kneads with his mouth, his tongue tracing where he kisses and his teeth coming out to mark that same skin. This form of worship moves further down, scattering gifts of affection you'll be sure to remember for days until they heal. His hand comes up to grab the neckline of your dress and push it down a single breast. 

Your nipple gets half a second of exposure before it's taken into the heat of Levi's mouth. A wispy moan flies into the air, blissful sparks dancing in your stomach, and your fingers burry into his scalp to keep him tethered to you. 

He laves your breast, nibbles the plump flesh with his teeth and seals it all with a hungry suckle. His tongue flicks your bud a final time before he's off, taking his precious lips with him down your heaving abdomen, where you feel him less beneath the fabric of your dress. 

A warm touch soon falls over your tit. Levi kneads and spreads with the palm of his hand to keep your mind busy while he accommodates himself between your thighs. 

He slides right under the beam of moonlight that enters the room from the window. His hair is a gorgeous mess, bangs sticking out in different angles over his forehead. Through them lies a hooded gaze that fucks you just by looking at you. 

Your cunt might burst before he gets his dick anywhere near it. Fuck, you can't take it. A whine escapes you as you bucket into nothing. 

Now that he's far out of reach, your hands opt to fill themselves with the sheets. You purse your lips in desperation and watch over the hilled planes of your breasts while he rides up your skirt. 

A soft curse leaves you. “Goddamn dress.” You want to be naked, to feel his body and sweltering heat on you. You want no barriers between you when he starts fucking you stupid into the mattress. 

He plants a foot on the floor, knee propped on the edge of the bed so he can slide your boots off. “Your fault for looking too good in it.”

“I need to feel you. Come on.”

“You will feel me where it matters,” he grabs the waistband of your white underpants and slides them down your legs, “once I get these off.” His eyes stay on you as he discards them, unwilling to spend a single second without admiring every inch of your body. A new hunger transforms them when you throw your thighs open. 

He grabs your leg by the calf and lifts it off the bed so his lips meet the skin with moist kisses. He travels from there to the inside of your knee, dilated pupils flicking up to watch you writhe in his hold. When your gazes connect, his own glinting through dark bangs of hair, it's like he zaps you, the shocks rolling directly between your legs. 

His mouth slides into the meaty territory of your inner thigh. The closer he gets to your center, the more sensitive you become. Another whine cracks your mouth open, and you're now fisting the fabric pooling around your waist.

“So sweet.” He sounds spell-bound. “There's cum trailing down your thigh already.” His tongue darts along the crease where your leg meets your pelvis to lick off your slick. 

“Levi,” enters you through a wanton breath, the last syllable shattering to pieces when he grabs your other leg and opens it against the bed, exposing the wetness lathering your folds. “Come on, sweetness.”

“In a moment, sweetheart.” He settles between your thighs and finds your face from there. “Shit, I can't stop looking at you.”

Your heart skips. He's watching an inverted version of your view, so you believe his claim. You can't stop looking at him either. His face perches inches above your cunt, just shy of kissing it, while you watch from between your breasts. One of them remains naked, puffy nipple taut in the night air. 

The anticipation is killing you, but you love the way he's looking at you, as if he's yet to grasp the physics of how you even exist. 

A tentative lick on your swollen clit makes you kick the bed. It would have been a tickle anywhere else on your body. Where you yearn the most, it's a flurry of sensations. 

Your thighs twitch, and Levi wraps his arms around them to lock them against the bed. He flicks you with his tongue again, and the next time your muscles spasm, his force on your thighs is so firm you remain strapped to the bed. 

To think he has the strength to break you and yet all you've ever known on your skin are the careful touches of a very considerate man who's always eager to learn more as the encounters pile up. He's the strongest, most intimidating and gifted soldier you have ever seen —that humanity has ever seen, dare you say— and he's lying between your legs, having declared his undying devotion to you just prior. A dress is all it took to disarm him. A few kisses here and there and he's a broken man on his knees. 

You've always held the power, from the very start, but this is different. You have more than just the physical—you have his feelings, his attention, his every thought. This man is yours in the whole sense of the word. 

He runs his tongue along the wet crease outlining your cunt, and the heat of it consumes your entire body. Your eyes slip shut. You can only loll your head to the sides because it's not enough. 

Levi travels down, finds your taint and drags the flat side of his tongue from there to the top, passing by your aching hole without stuffing it. A wet trail of saliva replaces the cum he licks into his mouth, then he starts tonguing your knot of nerves at the top with a firm and concentrated touch; just what you needed to fully unfurl before his lust-ridden gaze. 

You smack the bed, spine arching towards the ceiling. “Ah, god! Fuck, just like—that, shit.”

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moans, face buried into your cunt. “It’s been a while since you were against my mouth, hasn’t it?” 

“Y-yes. You were so good.” You gasp at the tight feeling of his lips wrapped around your clitoris. He starts sucking the life out of you, and as a result, a shudder runs through you. “S-so good. God.”

He catches your erect nipple between the pads of two fingers. “Got me so hard already.”

A loud moan pours from your lips. “I’ll… I’ll get it in my mouth.”

“Why move from this position when I can just shove my tongue up your cunt?”

This dress must have cast some kind of spell on Levi for him to be this talkative tonight. In which case, you’ll be forever grateful. For someone who constantly reminds you of his lack of expertise with words, he seems to know exactly what to say to push you towards an orgasm. 

His tongue laps everything up before plunging inside you. He holds your thighs with his arms and your pelvis with the press of his hands while your mind careens into a different plane of reality. Your body moves with a will of its own, spiraling out of control like you were possessed. 

“Shit, Levi.” Your pelvis ruts forward of its own volition, grinding on his face. You reach behind you to sink your nails into the pillow, then his palm falls open on your breast and offers a gentle squeeze. 

He retrieves his tongue to murmur, “Give me everything.” His other hand slinks between your legs to rub you. “I’ll swallow all of it.”

A soft cry escapes you. It’s impossible to stay quiet. Your whole body is throbbing. 

Your walls swallows his tongue like a sponge. His finger sends sparks up your spine with every touch. He won’t stop massaging your tit and pinching your nipple. You’re going to fucking explode.

“Levi!”

A full shudder runs through him. He moans into your folds and thrusts three fingers into you, dragging a filthy squelch that makes your face burn and your mouth fall open again. 

“Come,” he rasps. “Right now.” God, his voice is silky deep. It’s to the point it sounds as if it scrapes the back of his throat when he speaks. 

The knot in your stomach bursts and you shatter to pieces in his hands. Your orgasm crashes down on you like a punch to the spine. You shudder from head to toe with the shockwaves of pleasure that he drags on with his mouth, and you roll into the sweet feel of it, riding the waves of your high against his gorgeous face. 

He pulls back before it gets too much. You’re a heaving carcass on the bed whose limbs have yet to work. The most sensation you feel is on your clitoris, rubbed raw and so sensitive, even to the air that touches it. He licked all of your cum, but you think some residues are still coming out.  

The sheets rustle under his moving body. You pry an eye open to watch him stand under the glow of the moonlight as he pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and cleans his face with it. 

Your legs are still parted on the bed, inviting him in. “Levi,” you breathe, half delirious. “Come here.”

He discards the fabric somewhere on the floor and follows your bidding. You wait for his face to line up with yours before your arms rise around his head to pull him in for a kiss. 

His tongue is hot and desperate in your mouth, dragging along yours with the salty aftertaste of your juices. The faint smell of sex lingers on his face, and while you’re not one to taste yourself for fun, you would do it again and again from day to night if it came mixed with that particular soft flavor that’s all Levi. 

He reaches behind you to fumble with the laces, though with your mouth on his face and your naked crotch rolling into his pelvis, it doesn’t take him long to follow with a grunt of frustration. “What the fuck is this?” 

You keep working his mouth with yours, feeling like you’ll go crazy if you’re not taking something from him. “Strings,” you breathe. “Tied in criss-cross patterns.”

“Turn around.”

“No,” leaves you with a desperate breath. You hold your arms tight around him to keep him from moving. “I can’t wait. Fuck me. Fuck me now. You like this dress so much so fuck me in it now.”

Levi doesn’t have any quarrels with that. He reaches between his legs to take off his belt and open his pants. His attention strays from your face to get it done faster. 

You keep him entertained with your lips on his ear, needing to be on him one way or another. His skin is hot, no doubt flushed within the darkness. He trembles in your hold, slowing down but never stopping.

Finally, his dick is out, erect between the folds of his pants because neither of you have the patience to wait for him to take them off. You ride your skirt up and urge an immediate approach with fistfuls of his shirt.

He holds one of your legs and places it over his shoulder. The other lines his heat to your entrance, and then he pushes in. 

Your mouths part over each other, too dumb with the feeling to do anything but stare through wide eyes at the other. You’re so wet it’s like he’s crossing pure silk, his cock rock-hard and scorching against your sensitive walls. 

You bind your arms around his neck and urge him to slide in even more; until he’s balls-deep and his pelvis is rolling into yours. 

Three knocks on your door startle you. 

The world threatens to end when Levi rises to look at the door, but you clamp your hands around his nape and drag him back down. Frantic whispers leave you. “No. No, no, no. Levi, please. Please, please.”

Another insistent knock cuts through the heavy silence. “Dear, I… I believe you have a visitor?” Mrs. Lina speaks from the other side. “He says his name is Erwin Smith.”

The heat dies under the shiver that crawls up your spine when you hear that name. 

Levi rises on fully outstretched arms.  “Shit.”

“He’s rather insistent,” Mrs. Lina adds since no one is answering. 

You resist a whine when he slides out. “Yes, uh…” You close your legs, ignoring the cum between your thighs and the heavy ache of your cunt. You push the skirt down.

He zips up his pants and snatches his trench coat from the floor. “Don’t come out of that dress without me.” Levi whispers this with the promise to return. He whisks his head away as he races for the window.

“Wait,” you breathe. “The hell are you doing?”

Levi opens the window glass and perches a foot on the sill, prepared to climb up.

You clear your throat to address the door. “I’ll be right there.” Your hands scuffle to fix any part of you that’s salvageable in the short amount of time you have. 

“If he asks, I never left the party.” Levi already has both feet out when you look back at him. He closes the window and slinks into the night. 

Already at the entrance, you accommodate the neckline of your dress and pat down your hair, then with a deep breath to get you ready, you open the door. Light pours in from the hallway, coming like a stab to your eyes that had long since adjusted to the dark. 

The owner of the lodging house seems concerned. 

“Mrs. Lina, I’m sorry, I—um—” You clear your throat. “Did you by any chance tell him that Levi…?”

“It’s not my business, dear.” Her tone is soft, and her gaze doesn’t judge. 

Your shoulders drop, rid of the tension that was keeping them uptight. “I—thank you. Thank you.” 

“I’ll let him in then.”

“Yes. Thank you.” You turn to head back inside.

“Dear.”

You stop and look back at her. “Hm?”

“Your neck.” 

Your hand rises on an impulse and smacks your collarbone to hide the bruises. What makes it worse is that you don’t know how bad they look. “Uh, right. Thanks.”

You race back inside to light up a few oil lamps and fix up the room as best as you can. You kick your undergarments and Levi’s ruined handkerchief under the bed, flatten the sheets and buff the pillow, then move to the mirror to correct the state of your appearance. 

Your reflection on the glass shows a flustered version of you scurrying to fix your bra and hair. Beneath the skirt of your dress, cum sticks to your inner thighs, and even if Erwin can’t see that, you’re mortified. You pull a shawl from your luggage and throw it around your shoulders in an attempt to hide the marks. 

A knock on your door startles you. 

“Captain?” It’s open, but the man on the other side doesn’t step in without your invitation. 

“Yes.” You try your best to not sound so breathless as you approach the door to pull it wide open, letting the light from outside pour into the room. Your visitor towers at the entrance with the mighty air of an inspector, not a hair out of place. “Erwin, hey. You want the file?”

“And an assessment.” His tone is poised and controlled, but you can already tell he won’t be the most lenient tonight. “I noticed you were all over the place for a while. Next thing I knew, you went back upstairs and Levi was nowhere to be found.”

“The situation went off course for a moment. The files were stored under lock inside a cabinet. I was trying to take them from the man in question. Levi noticed and got them for me.” You pause, struggling to keep your chin up in front of Erwin’s stoic expression. “If it wasn’t for him, I would have been discovered. He helped me out a lot, Erwin.”

“Of that I don’t doubt.”

“Then why do you seem—?”

“Levi isn’t at the party anymore.”

“I, uh—huh?” It’s hard to sound confused when you’re the most nervous. “He’s… not?”

“Where is he?” His approach is accusing, unwilling to dance around the subject. 

“At the party, last I heard.”

“Where is he, Captain?”

You ball your hands into fists. “Erwin. If you have something to say, say it.”

“Are you keeping him here?” 

“No.”

“Did he leave with you?”

“No.”  

“Are you involved with him?”

“ In what way?” It’s so stupid. You’re challenging him to say it as if you have nothing to hide. 

“In any form that violates military codes. In any way that ruins him.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Ruins… him?”

“We need a soldier, Captain. I fear you might be returning a man who’s already been claimed.”

He’s talking about Levi like he's a dog. That doesn’t sit right with you. “Erwin. He’s his own person. You can’t just force him—”

“You forget, Captain,” he’s intimidating even without any alteration to his voice, “that he’s a criminal with a sentence to make up for with his service.” 

You stand in place, devoid of words because he’s right. You forget Levi has hurt people before—taken lives too. Of mostly criminals like himself, but that doesn’t take away from the deed. As a matter of fact, if it wasn't for his time in the Scouting Legion, he still wouldn’t know self-control. 

It’s easy to forget all that when he’s touching you, squirming and bending like the graze of a finger could break him, and whimpering like he were the most defenseless man inside these walls. 

Erwin sighs. “I will reevaluate this situation and return to you with an answer. Our priority now is to make sure we have a future to worry about.”

You transfer your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the stickiness between your legs. “Understood, Erwin.” 

He doesn’t make any move that indicates he wants to step in, so you give him the file at the door. The moment it’s in his hands, he turns away and lets you off with a formal, “Good evening. We will talk about the journey back once tomorrow’s debate is over.” 

“Good evening, Erwin.” You wait for him to leave the hallway before you close the door. 

It hadn’t hit you how little your pride mattered to you until you stood your ground against Erwin of all minds, knowing full well you didn’t have the arguments on your side. 

You are, indeed, an addict. 

Devoid of energy, you collapse on the bed and begin to drift off, the events of tonight catching up to you. 

Erwin might take him away. He’s likely to steal Levi from you. 

You don’t know how to take it. On one hand, without your duty pressuring you, maybe you could pursue something—a real thing of sorts between you. 

But you don’t know what his standing on the matter is. Relationships require effort and time, both of which would have to be split between the Scouting Legion and what little personal life you have left. 

It isn’t guaranteed to work out in the end. Chances are you’ll die before the war even ends. You don’t want to feed into Levi’s trauma, though it might already be too late for that. He told you himself: he cares too much. 

You’ve gotten so comfortable in your limbo that anything outside of it makes your mind spiral. 

Time blurs as you loll in and out of sleep, but then you feel lips trailing along your jaw and your senses return to you with full awareness at once. 

Your hand rises to hold his head close to you, fingers tangling into soft locks of black hair. You angle your neck to the side and find Levi hovering over you, silver eyes glinting under the glow of the candle light. 

Just like that, you’re high all over again. 

“Tired?” he whispers. 

“Not tired enough.” Your lips meet in a languid kiss. He still carries the manly scent of gel and cedar with him. “Levi,” you breathe against his warm lips. “Erwin wasn’t pleased.”

“I know. He’ll cool down. I impressed a few people while I was there.”

“You were a good boy?” Your voice drags out, groggy with sleep.  

He hums and kisses you again, maintaining that slow pace.

“You have to keep it up tomorrow,” you say. “Erwin… he’s doubting me. Doubting what I can do for you.”

He leans away so he can meet your eyes. “Then Erwin’s a blind fool.”

“Levi—”

“You held me together while I grieved. You gave me permission to forgive myself. You were there. Always there. It was all you.” 

After what went down with Erwin, you didn’t realize how much you needed to be reassured. For your work to be questioned… it’s not something you're used to, and the worst part is that there are several reasons as to why it should be questioned. 

You pull his mouth down on yours, plastering your complicated mix of emotions into the movements of your lips and every swipe of your tongue. He’s your safe reprieve, the one man you can confide in for everything. And he’s wholly yours.

His hand settles around your waist to maneuver your body. You throw your arms around him and keep him close, faces still on each other, blissfully breathing and humming together. His bangs tickle your forehead, and his lashes kiss the underside of your eyes. You’re no longer on your bed, but floating over a cloud. 

Levi moves his arm under you to reach for the back piece that hugs your torso. He fumbles with it but once again fails to loosen anything. “I’m getting tired of these strings.”

“You finally want to get this dress off?”

“I wouldn’t mind it if you kept it and went on expeditions with it.”

You breathe out a laugh. Your fingers knead his scalp. “I’d rather be naked now.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either.” Levi leans back so you can sit up on the bed and plant your feet on the floor, then he tugs you up to your full height and turns you around. 

The standing mirror faces you from across the bed, reflecting Levi’s figure behind you as he focuses on the strings holding the dress to your body. You find that the trench coat has been laid on the other end of the bed. He must have shed it off while you were still asleep. 

His hands are precise and gentle in their quest to pull the dress apart, as agile as the hands of a seamstress treating fabric.

“Was there any problem when you returned?” you ask. 

“Other than Erwin bitching about my disappearance, no problem at all.” He pauses for a while, but eventually adds, “I… had faded lipstick marks on me.” The way he admits it makes you think he didn’t realize it until it was pointed out to him. 

“Oh.” It hadn’t even occurred to you. “It’s only a matter of time before Erwin takes action, you know.” 

“He doesn’t have proof of anything.” 

“I’m not saying we’ll get expelled or something like that, but you’ll likely get transferred to a different team.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror for a second, then resumes his work on the laces. 

You wait for an answer that never comes. “Not gonna say anything about it?”

“I don’t know what to say about it.”

Neither do you. And you wouldn’t know where to start either. 

You choose a different topic. “Did you leave the party with Erwin and Keith?” 

“We headed back to Sina's Headquarters together. I snuck out after lights out.”

“Erwin's probably keeping a sharp eye on you.”

“He won't know I was gone. He's asleep now. I took so long for a reason.”

“What time is it?”

“About four in the morning.”

“Levi, you can't be serious,” you laugh quietly. “You should be resting for tomorrow's debate.” 

“Would you have waited until tomorrow night to take off this dress?” 

“No.”

“Right, so I had to come.”

You chuckle. Levi loosens the laces enough that he's able to pull the corset-like piece apart, and you feel the air reentering your lungs in one fell swoop. Even your muscles and bones feel like they're finally breathing. “Holy shit, I didn't realize how tight that was.”

“It was squeezing your ribcage. Of course you were asphyxiating in this thing.” Now that the work is done, Levi finds your eyes in the mirror, his stare dark in the low light, shadowed by bangs of hair. He grabs the neckline of your dress and begins to push it down your shoulders. “Do you get to keep this dress?” 

You laugh again. “Levi.”

“I'll buy it from anyone if I have to.” He drags the sleeves down along with the bodice, slowly peeling the fabric off your breasts and then your torso. 

You can't stop smiling. “That bad, hm?”   

“I thought it was obvious.” He releases the dress so it pools with the skirt around your naked legs. 

His eyes gain an edge that could slice the mirror in half with the way he looks at your body. They move down your neck and collarbone, over your breasts and along your torso, passing between your thighs and down the length of your legs before they jump back to your face, leaving a trail of heat behind them. 

One hand perches on your waist. The other falls over a breast. This warm touch pulls you against him, where his erection pokes you between the back of your thighs. His black hair tickles you when he noses behind your ear, taking in your scent with a deep inhale. 

The pads of his fingers skim an invisible line of fire from your waist to your navel. With his other hand, he kneads your breast. The combined stimulation brings more heaps of bliss to life.

Your breathing speeds up with anticipation, and you can't stop admiring him in the mirror even if your eyes are threatening to slide shut. He makes you feel so beautiful, so desired. 

His face buries into the hollow of your neck, lips finding a spot of skin to latch on to. At the same time, he cups your sex in his palm.

You bucket into his strong frame, and the back of your head falls on his shoulder. You gasp out his name. 

A full body shudder overtakes him. You feel it through the clothes he still wears. Levi slides his hand further into your heat, fingers landing on your clitoris and pressing there with a firm roll. 

Against him, you twitch and moan. The tiny sound of your slick is utter filth to your ears. 

“Looks like I didn't need to prep you again after all,” he rasps, words hot in your ear. 

“Been waiting all night. Want you now.” 

His body bends forward and takes you with him to the bed. Your knees slant against the edge, and you wait there, heaving with your arms laid out beside your head, as Levi undoes his pants behind your suspended ass. You hear the clank of the belt when he discards it on the floor and the sound of the zipper that he yanks down. 

Your pupils flick up so you can worship the sight of him in the mirror. His lean body towers over you, bathed in the orange glow of the candle light on one side and the darkness of the late night on the other. 

He won't stop looking at the view between your legs and is fully unabashed about doing so. You spread your knees further apart to present him a wider opening, feeling yourself pulse for him. 

A tight breath tears from his lungs, and like an animal hunting in the dark, he moves. 

The spot beside your head sinks under the weight of his palm. You watch Levi bend over your frame, cock in hand kissing the rim of your entrance, ready to fill you. 

Your heart keeps slamming into your ribcage with anticipation. There's something raw and primal about the way you're both positioned on the bed, and you have the perfect view of him in the mirror—that precious moment before he's about to claim you. His chest swells and shrinks with ragged breaths, spellbound eyes sliding over every speck of you he can fit in his plane of vision. 

He enters you. 

Your hands fist the sheets, and you gasp out loud. 

His cock is rock hard, so swollen with need you're almost sure you're feeling the canals of veins against your soft walls. He slides into the wet rings of flesh with ease, tearing you apart with heat and pleasure and pure girth. 

You were expecting all of it since his cock is all you've known for some time. What you weren't expecting was the boost that a mere change of positions accomplished. 

“Oh, god.” You're sure he's hitting a brand new spot in the back of your cunt when he bottoms out. “Fuck.”

Levi is heaving hot breaths, cock twitching inside you. His free hand plants itself on the other side of your head. He pulls out with a heavy drag, then pushes back in again. 

Your body jerks. “Ah, f-fuck.” 

He leans into your neck and dips his face in. Hot lips fall just below your jawline. His tongue laves and his teeth tease the skin. You try to watch him in the mirror, but the next snap of his hips has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

He sets up a pace that's firm and deep without going too fast, rubbing you raw with a continuous, delicious ache that makes your sanity melt. His heavy balls slap you in the ass, and the whole front of him, all sturdy muscle lathered with sweat and heat, glides back and forth on your back. 

Your mouth slacks, and you start panting like you're agonizing, brows tugging into your eyes. “S-sweetness… hah.” 

He flicks his tongue against your bruised skin and pulls his head up to watch you, sprawled beneath him, as he fucks you into the bed. “Doing so good, sweetheart,” he slurs like a drunk man. His hips bottom out again, and this time, they roll into your ass. 

Your cunt swallows and accepts like a good fucking girl, producing so much slick you feel it slide down your thighs whenever he pulls out. 

You loll back and forth on the bed to the beat of his fucking, soft creaks filling the dark next to the sound of skin slapping skin and the desperate little moans pouring from your mouth and Levi’s—his are low and rough; yours high-pitched and whiny. 

This man is everything. He’s all that fills your mind and your cunt. Levi, Levi, Levi. You can only repeat his name in your head like a mantra, pledging your eternal allegiance to him. Your body isn't yours—not when he's riding it, deciding its pleasure and making it jerk without your knowledge; completing it. 

You cling to the sheets with a knuckle-white grip. “Levi, shit.”

His slithers a hand beneath you to cup a breast. The whole front of his body burns; his cock keeps scalding your sopping walls, his teeth nip gentle embers on the skin of your throat, and your own pleasure adds to the temperature inside your body. It might not be long before you combust. 

Each thrust into you leaves your cunt twice as sensitive and receptive. It's like he's fucking directly into naked nerve endings. 

You squirm and cry out into the sheets. Your arms stretch over your head, and when Levi clamps down on your hands to pin them exactly there, the most unstable gasp you have ever heard from yourself fires into the air. 

He's teasing your throat with the flicks of his tongue, pouring broken sounds into raw skin, all while ramming into you like there won’t be a tomorrow. 

You feel it—that familiar point in your navel twisting and folding into itself, just about to burst from the pressure. You're sure Levi can feel it. The groan he releases is a tell-tale sign of your cunt squeezing him with all the pent up tension in you. 

You cling to the fingers webbed between the gaps of your hand, and he offers you a squeeze in return. 

The last residues of thoughts get pressed beneath a heavy fog. You can't form any coherent words anymore. Not even his name. It's like your brain melts out through your fucking ear. 

The coil snaps. With an euphoric cry, you come. 

Your lungs are heaving, mouth slack and drooling over the sheets. You can't keep your eyes open—or maybe they are and it's just your pupils sliding up. Levi's mouth is pressed up against your ear, but whatever he's saying sounds like it's coming from a mile away. Your cunt squeezes him, and he's fucking you hard through it, prolonging your orgasm to a point where you can't be sure if it's good or painful or both. Your body goes into an overdrive, every cell in it focused on pushing you to the other side without you dying in the process.  

It seems like an infinite high, but to your relief, it slowly begins to set. Your orgasm, the temperature, the overwhelming sensations; it all levels out and becomes more bearable. Your senses return to you one by one. The fog that rises leaves behind a quiet ringing in your ears and your soul comes back to a boneless body. With a deep breath, you recognize the strong scent of sex in the room. 

“I love that face you're making,” he moans, his voice getting clearer as the seconds go by. “You look so fucking beautiful.”

You're sure you're still drooling on the bed. You've yet to even see straight. 

As you are right now, you could tell him you love him without detonating on the spot. You could ask him to marry you and buy a house with you; to adopt three dogs and a cat while you're at it. Fortunately, only a wordless sound melts from your mouth. 

You don't register the moment Levi picks you up. Next thing you know, you're floating on your feet, slumped against him with his dick still inside you. He supports all of your weight with his sturdy frame and starts fucking you again. 

You force out a sob that shatters to pieces in the air. Your arms shoot up to grab fistfuls of hair from the back of his head. Your walls are crying out for help, but they're also taking everything he has to offer with a wide stretch and the heavy squelch of your slick. He's so hard you worry he will burst. 

“I'm dying,” you wail. “I'm fucking dying.”

A mangled curse slithers through his teeth. Levi sounds just as desperate. “Look at you—shit. This is fucking surreal. Look at you.”

Another sound gets yanked from your lungs. You're seeing stars behind your eyelids. 

“No, you don't understand,” he rasps, grabbing your chin and aiming your face towards the mirror. “Look at you. Fuck, how are you even real?” 

His cock fucking your hole is the first thing your eyes land on. You're sprawled against him, and he's the only pillar holding your wrecked body together. One hand massages your breast while the other keeps its grip firm on your chin. You're still clinging to his hair like it's your lifeline. His face peeks from the gap of your arm, dilated eyes wide and devouring you through the mirror. 

You're too dumb to even cum properly. Your mouth falls open, but you don't scream. You don't stop looking either. It's just your walls pulsing and your body shuddering, the waves of pleasure rolling inside you. 

Levi groans. He pushes you back against the bed and fucks your own cum back inside you.

Three more thrusts and he pulls out to come all over your back. You feel a sudden emptiness in you once he’s out. It's equal parts relieving and undesired, your body not wanting to reject something that belongs in it. 

You're a broken rag doll on the mattress with his warm seed on your back, unable to form coherent thoughts, much less speak them. Such incompetence would normally embarrass you, but every bone and cell in you embraces it. The start of your afterglow is sweet and lulling. 

With a faint kiss on the back of your head and a quiet I'll be back, Levi leaves you by yourself on the bed. 

You use that time to crawl in with what little mobility you have in your muscles, crashing the pillow with the side of your face, limbs spread on the bed. 

You hear the bathroom door closing, followed by quiet steps on the floor, and then feel a wet rag on your back as Levi wipes the cum off. 

You hum what should have been a thanks but ends up sounding like nothing. 

“I have to go before Erwin wakes up.” He cards your hair with gentle fingers and places an apologetic kiss on your temple. 

Your mind drifts off, sleep catching up to you fast. 

“Shower when you wake up.” The extra weight on the bed leaves when he leans away. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

You hum again. 

He throws a cover over your naked body and tucks you in. 

Amidst the safety his presence provides, you fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

The fiery colors of a late afternoon bleed across a cloudless sky. You watch, cup of tea in hand, as the sun continues its slow descent. The citizens of wall Sina don’t know where it disappears to once it hides behind the wall, and the scouts don’t know its course past the distant horizon in titan territory.

For the first time, you can understand why the people of Mitras lack curious minds. You have only been enjoying a share of their luxurious lifestyle for a day and, from your safe place on the porch of a bakery with a beautiful view of the sky and the crowded streets below, sitting under a parasol with a cup of tea and a book, you can’t bring yourself to care much about the world beyond either. 

It’s all just a fantasy —you know— the fake comfort of a beautiful dream, but unlike the citizens of the walls, you don’t get to be stuck in the mindless trance day-to-day, so you’ll allow yourself the luxury this one time. 

“You’re kidding me.” Grouchy grumbling starts above your shoulder, then an arm shoots into the side of your vision to grab your book from the table. The cover containing the title receives the full scrutiny of his dark eyes. 

A smile pulls your lips up into a soft curve. “Levi,” you greet, sounding as elated as you feel to see him. He’s in casual clothes, a white dress shirt paired with his cravat and black trousers, and he’s close, quiet breaths blowing into the side of your face. 

You had told Mrs. Lina to pass on your location if Levi stopped by the lodging house searching for you, and it looks like he did. The debate must have already reached its conclusion. 

“You’re actually still reading this.” His addition is toneless, but you pick up an underlayer of teasing and sarcasm between the words. He returns the novel to its place on the table, its cover facing the parasol now that the book has been closed. 

“I’m in too deep to back out now,” you chuckle, reading the title that’s all too familiar by now. Your eyes then flick up to watch him pull out a chair from the round table to take a seat next to you. “So?”

“What.” His feet plant themselves by the side of the chair, body steered in your direction. He crosses one leg over the other and drops a single arm over the top rail of the backrest. 

“Come on, Levi. The debate, obviously. How did it go?”

“It was fine,” he drawls like he were bored. “Funds were approved for another expedition. I’m sure Erwin will give you the details better than me.”

A brief rundown of the situation would have been the perfect answer, but knowing the outcome was favorable for the scouts is more than enough knowledge for now. 

“I’m so relieved to hear that.” You slide your gaze to the sky. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

“You shouldn’t celebrate so early. If we fail the next expedition, we’re back to square one.”

That’s a reminder you don’t need right now. “One day at a time, Levi.” You look at him again, at the orange hue on his skin and the mix of bright colors in his silver eyes. “No one brought up a disappeared file or anything of the sorts?”

“No point in denouncing me without the legal info to prove it. They weren’t gonna risk revealing they treated my case so lightly over the years.” 

“True, but the parliament isn’t the biggest fan of us either.”

“That was the whole point of me being there.”

“Surely it took more to convince them than just praise for your skill,” you say. “Your talent is hard to believe unless seen in action.”  

“Wall cleanup.”

“Hm?”

Levi doesn’t look ecstatic about the new hassle that’s been assigned to him. “I will assist with the next wall cleanup survey. Important people will be watching to corroborate my skill. Only afterwards will funds be officially approved.”

You perk up. “Oh, we may as well call that a victory for us.” 

He only offers a lazy hum, eyes watching the sunset. 

“Levi.”

He flicks them back to you. 

“Thank you. For all of it. You’re doing amazing.” 

The change is subtle, but you notice the moment his gaze loses its natural edge. He lifts his hand from its place on his thigh and finds your cheek with the back of a single finger. It brushes down, barely grazing your skin. “You’re thanking me for doing my duty?” His words slide out soft and caring, revealing quiet feelings through loose ends. His finger loiters in place, done after tracing a single line down to your jaw, and he just looks at you, showing deep adoration.

You feel your heart melting into a puddle inside your stomach. “It's still a lot of time and effort that shouldn't go unappreciated.” You pause to smile at him. “And I appreciate you. A lot.” 

He pushes out a wayward breath, response stuck in his throat. His dilated pupils linger a moment longer before they flick to the side. He retracts his hand and leans back on his chair. 

A waitress arrives at your table. “Your order, sir.” She places the saucer and its matching teacup on top, then follows it up with a plate that holds two cream puffs. 

Levi pushes the sweets to your side of the table. 

It catches you off guard. The display rack had tempting options, but the ridiculous prices made you settle for a lonesome cup of plain tea. 

You poke your own chest with an index finger, verifying that he means you. 

He grabs his own cup of black tea, fingers splayed around the rim. “Who else?”

“Oh.” A pleasant warmth sprouts in your chest as you glance down at the pastries. “Thank you.” 

He hums into his tea, then brings the cup back to its saucer. “Are you seriously going to insist on finishing that trash?”

You follow his eyes to the book. Stuck Between Three Loves By Egon Huber, a true classic by now. An airy laugh seeps out of you. “Did I tell you the knight and the prince had their first kiss?”

“No, but I saw it coming.”

“They made it to the land of fire. I think the castle is after the land of sand, which is after the land of fire.” You take a napkin and grab one cream puff with it. “The lore is confusing stuff.”

“Land of fire,” he huffs. “Shitty names.”

“He talks about these giant mountains that spill fire into the sky, so high up it eventually starts raining fire.” 

“For our sake, let’s hope it stays as fiction.” 

You take a bite, savoring the rich flavor of the cream as it melts on your tongue along with the warm texture of the cake. “Oh, that’s good.” 

As if it's part of a tradition, you repeat an action already done too many times and present the pastry to Levi, nearly shoving it into his face.

Other than rolling his eyes, Levi shows no signs of rejecting your offer. He tilts forward and takes a bite, then settles back into place and starts chewing. 

Pleased, you leave the cream puff on the plate. “Next chapter continues right after the kiss. We can read it together.” An ecstatic grin parts your lips. 

“If you really can’t keep it to yourself, fine. Go ahead.”

Before he can change his mind, you grab the book and land on the page where you last left the marker. “Alaric —that’s the prince, by the way— holds his significant other close. His lips taste like violet mist and midnight husk, he notes—” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You laugh. “I don’t know.”

“What is midnight husk supposed to taste like?”

“Like… mysterious, I guess?”

“If I can’t perceive it with my senses, then it’s not worth putting in. He’s just wasting paper that could have easily been used to print legible documents or something worth even a speck of more value than whatever the hell he likely spent hours concocting with his tiny pea brain in a genius plot to make us all dumber.”

You don’t think he has ever spoken that many words with one breath. It’s amusing, to say the least. Your chest fills with air as you chortle. “Okay, honey. Here,” you grab his cup of tea, “take a deep breath and have some tea. We’ll leave the book alone.” 

He accepts the cup from you, humming in agreement. 

“By the way,” you add, “does Erwin know you left?”

“Probably.” Upon your silence, he meets your eyes. “He can’t bitch about it if I’m off duty.” 

Last night’s encounter at your door left a sour taste in your mouth. Brief are the times Erwin loses his patience, and you had never been a direct recipient. Needless to say, it was embarrassing, and your pride as a soldier is standing on a tightrope. You don’t want to disappoint him. You want his trust… but you also want Levi. 

Your priorities have never been so mixed up. 

“How did you see him?” you ask. “His mood, I mean.”

“Fine.” 

“Any particular comments I should know of? About me, maybe.”

“Nothing. Why are we still talking about him? I’ve seen and heard enough of him for today.”

“I’m just…” you sigh, “I don’t know.” 

“What?” 

“I had never seen him so… angry—disappointed? I don’t know—distrustful of me.” His expression from last night flashes before your eyes, the stone cold look of a man who expected better. You begin to trace your finger around the rim of your cup, needing an out from Levi’s intense staring. “I’ve been the close equivalent of his right hand man through the years so… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“I fail to see where the problem is. Erwin wanted me tamed. He has me. I’ve been nothing if not cooperative with all his plans.” 

It’s not as simple as Levi makes it seem. You’ve seen for yourself the impact you’ve had on Levi. How you’ve ruined him, as Erwin so graciously worded it. You haven’t been crafting a soldier as much as you’ve been crafting a lover for yourself. It sounds awful put under such a perspective, but Erwin got his point across with the way he expressed himself.

You close the hand on your thigh into a fist. “If Erwin and I were grabbed and you could only save one of us...”

Levi retreats into himself. The next time he talks, he already sounds distant, like he has put a barrier to protect his soft center. “You know I have the capacity to save you both—”

“If you could only save one.”

“This hypothetical situation is unrealistic.”

You can’t even look him in the eyes. “If you have Erwin about to get eaten right in front of you and I’m half a mile away in the same position, who will you go to first?” 

The silence that hangs between you could crush you if it fell over you. 

Levi says nothing. 

“If an entire squadron has fired an emergency signal flare on one end of the field and I’m on the other end, alone, firing one myself, where are you going first?”  

More silence. 

That’s the loudest answer you could receive. And you’re still split in two; between the side of you that can’t help being elated and the side of you that feels like shit for it. You’re stealing a man —a walking miracle— from humanity for the wrong reasons. 

You want him to be wholly yours, to serve no one else, and because of this deep feeling of possession, you’re no better than the people you accuse of using him. 

You push out a sigh. “I think I have failed you… as your captain.”

He clicks his tongue. “Now you’re starting to piss me off.”

“Can’t you realize what I’ve done?” You’re spiraling down into a hole of self-deprecation, unable to see anything outside of it. 

The edge in his voice sharpens further. “Did you not hear anything of what I told you last night?”

“To think I just… sat on you that first time… when I should have reacted differently. I should have been a proper figure of authority.”

It hadn’t sunk in how unprofessional and risky that was. The first time might have been a mistake, but the rest of those encounters were choices, and then they became a habit, and soon after an addiction. You just didn’t give a shit. Maybe your priorities were never defined to begin with. 

“Are you regretting it?”

Your stare lifts from the cup, finding his eyes. “Regretting?”

“Us.”

Although you can’t say you do, a part of you wishes you felt that way, just so you could prove to yourself that at the very least a speck of shame or proper sense of duty remains. 

Instead, you ask, “What even is ‘us’ ?” You haven’t defined what you want from each other. You’re gambling everything for something that has yet to exist. 

Now he’s caught off guard, cup of tea long forgotten. “I’m not sure.”

“Am I just a hook up to you?”

“Obviously not.” Levi doesn’t hesitate with that answer. He almost seems offended that you dared to even mention it. 

“So if you get transferred to a different squad—if I’m not your captain anymore, then what am I?” You hate how fast your pulse is going. You hate your clammy hands and your flimsy heart. You hate that you want this too much. 

It’s unfair that you’re dumping the burden of giving an answer onto him. You’re too nervous to take the lead this time. 

“Is it such a problem if we’re just us?”

You freeze your movements. 

So he means continuing the way you are; in this eternal, dark limbo where nothing is defined. Where nothing is secured. 

“I guess it’s not a problem,” leaves you through a defeated breath. 

You don’t mean to sound so disappointed, but Levi catches it, and it’s fucking embarrassing. 

“Hey.” He says this like he's approaching a wounded animal on the streets. “I just… well, the thing with courting…” A groan escapes him, directed at himself for not finding the proper words when he needs them the most. “Our futures—we already sold them to the scouts. The cause will take everything from us and leave nothing behind for each other. It’s not about commitment. That’s not what this is. I don’t care about any other woman.” He bares his eyes for you, exposing every imperfection and crumb of emotion he harbors for you, so that you’ll read him and see that he’s being honest, that he wouldn’t hide anything from you or disrespect you in such a manner. 

You understand where he’s coming from. Courting tends to have its stages, and those stages lead to a single end goal. You can’t devote your lives to each other, can’t devote your futures or your every waking moment. You can only continue to be this us that Levi mentioned. 

Some of the weight lifts off your chest. “So we just… continue to be there for each other. We continue being us. Even if I’m not your captain anymore.” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“Do you want to?”

His gaze softens even more. “Yes. I want to.”

You nod. Neither of you were exactly subtle about your feelings for the other, but it’s reassuring to count on a verbal confirmation to clear any doubts and insecurities from your mind. 

“Okay.” You nod. “Yeah, I… I want it too.”

Despite the rather hopeful end to the conversation, neither of you seem like your usual selves coming out of it. You’re still dwelling on many things. As for Levi, once so certain with his answers, he no longer looks so sure about anything anymore. 

You take the remaining pastry to go and leave the beautiful spot on the porch behind. It’s already dark by the time you make it to the street, though unlike the outer walls, life doesn’t make such an abrupt stop when evening starts. 

The lamp posts on the sides of the street have been lit up, and they paint a different beauty on the plaza. An orange glow seeps from every building and store as men and women enjoy their nightly stroll, some of them steering off course to enter a shop. Public chatter is quite unlike the one at the market, where it’s invasive and rough. In this plaza, it’s a pleasant background noise. 

Far into the view, where the houses seem like tiny dots in the distance, speckles of light fill the many plots of land. It’s a stark contrast to the sheer darkness present in the Scouting Legion’s headquarters during nighttime.

You’re looking at the details of every store when a window in particular catches your eye. Or rather, the sign plastered on it. You halt your step and take a second to confirm the written name, then a gasp fills your lungs. “No way.” 

Levi stops a short distance past you and follows your line of sight to the sign with ‘Book Signing’ written on it, the name ‘Egon Huber’ following below it. “No way,” he says, sounding incredulous about it. “Hey, wait—”

You’re already on your way to the door when you spin on your heels to look at him. “What do you mean wait? I have the book right here in my bag. I’m getting this shit signed.” You swirl around and push through the glass door of the library. 

“You can’t be serious.” He’s left speaking to the night air. With a lousy sigh, he follows you. The bell on top of the door rings as Levi steps inside. “I don’t believe this.” 

Your eager eyes slide across the room in search of the author in question. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Levi.”

The library oozes cozy vibes. Rows of bookshelves fill up the walls from floor to ceiling, and even more rows occupy the space in the middle of the room, making the many openings between shelves seem like different entrances to a maze.  

You walk around like a child inside a toy store. 

“Don’t act like he’s a celebrity,” he grumbles. 

“But he is!”

“Come on—”

“Ah! Found him.” You look at Levi while poking an outstretched finger towards the back of the room. Egon Huber is already clearing up his table, so you make a desperate run for it. 

A bulky man puts out his large hand to block your way. You didn’t notice him standing on the intercepting corridor between two bookshelves. He doesn’t wear any particular uniform, though it seems he’s been taking on the role of a personal bodyguard during this event. 

“Ma’am. The book signing is already over.”

Your gleeful expression falls. “Really? It’s just one signature I want.” 

“There are schedules for these things. Keep a closer eye on future events. Please, if you would—”

“Now, now. It’s quite uncouth to scare away the lady.”

Egon Huber in the flesh walks up to you, ever the classy writer with his short-front tailcoat of vibrant blue color and beige trousers. His black dress shoes match the color of the top hat he wears on his wavy hair of an almost silver color, bangs falling along his forehead from a side part. He’s a man of striking appearance despite looking like he could be in his early fifties. 

He takes off his reading glasses to look at you. “Apologies. Is there anything I can help you with, dear? I have no more books left to give out.” 

You can’t believe you’re talking to the same person who wrote a love story between a titan and a princess. Your excitement differs from that of a real fan, but it’s still genuine in its own respectful way. “I have my own copy of Stuck Between Three Loves. I was hoping you could sign it.” 

“Oh, one of my older stories. I would be delighted to, dear. Follow me to the table.” He keeps you in his line of sight as he walks beside you. “So how did you find the story?”

“I still haven’t finished it. I’m half-way through it. Interesting lore you have there, Mr. Huber. I especially liked the land of fire.” 

“I am ever so glad you find it enjoyable.”

“It would have never occurred to me to tell a story about a titan of all creatures.”  

“The little knowledge we have on them allows room for the imagination to fly, after all.”

You roam inside your satchel for the book and then place it on the table. “Am I supposed to be waiting for the unexpected once I make it to the final chapters?” 

He sinks the tip of his pen into a bottle of ink. “Perhaps.” He sends a cheeky smile your way before looking down as he flips the cover open. “Any particular name you would like me to mention?” 

You tell him your first name. “Oh, and Levi.”

“Keep my name out of that book.” Levi comes to a stop beside you, glaring at Egon Huber with his arms crossed like he's about to challenge him to a duel. 

You have never struggled against titans as bad as you're struggling to keep yourself from laughing. “He’s a big fan too. Just shy.”

Egon Huber is either a good actor or he doesn’t detect the menace burning behind Levi’s eyes. “Are you quite liking it, Levi? No need to be ashamed. Plenty of men find comfort in the romance category.”

“Hm.” His posture doesn’t loosen up. “Tell me, what does midnight husk taste like?”

“Writers have a term for that. We call it purple prose.”

“Flowery text should still communicate something. What are you showing me with midnight husk?” 

“You tell me, Levi, as the reader, what do you see?”

His scowls deepens, and Egon Huber remaining nonchalant only adds fuel to the fire. “I, the reader, am paying you to paint a clear picture in my head. I shouldn’t have to do all the imagining myself.” 

Egon Huber directs the shine in his eyes to you. “Writing is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? A wide spectrum where all opinions contribute to something diverse and immersive.” 

You cross your arms and nod, kissing up to his comment even if you didn’t understand half of it. “Indeed.”

“Facts don’t count as—”

“You see, Levi,” Egon Huber begins to scribble on the book, “one could argue that midnight husk means mystery—”

You nod again, a wide grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “That’s what I said.”

“Or perhaps it means passion to others. Love. Darkness. It can be anything, really.”

No part of Levi is buying that explanation. “We’re talking about a kiss that tastes like midnight husk.”

“Precisely.”

Something in Levi is one more tug away from snapping. “Who the hell thinks like that while kissing?”

“Who knows?” He flings the book shut and hands it over to you with a caring smile. “Maybe now you will.”

Levi scoffs. You want to cackle. 

“Thank you for making time for us, Mr. Huber,” you say, your voice light with amusement. “Don’t mind my brooding partner. He loves the book.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

You make it out of the library with Levi in tow. Once you’re sure you’re out of sight, the laughter you fought so hard to hold in rips out of you. “No way that just happened. I can’t believe this.”

Levi sulks beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. “I hate him.”

“He was a total sweetheart. Come on.”

“I hate him.”

“Oh, don’t be such an ass.” You open the book and read Egon Huber’s written message out loud, starting with your name and Levi’s. “... with all good wishes to you both. May your future kisses taste like midnight husk.” You tilt your chin up and laugh even harder. “God, this is too good.”

Levi’s stare is wide. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, it’s right here.” You show him the first page, and Levi takes a quick glance before he steps back, as if the book could pounce on him at any moment. 

“He clearly did it to spite me,” he grumbles. 

“This is the kind of thing you will find in museums after you become a household name.” 

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

“I’m framing this page.”

“You don’t have my consent for that.”

Chapter Text

The wind blows harder on top of Wall Maria than on solid ground. 

You watch your step around the edge, leaning forward just the slightest to look at the horde of titans trying to claw their way up the wall to no avail. Dread carves a bottomless pit in your stomach, though not exactly because of the sight. “This is complete lunacy.” You turn around, placing worried eyes on your friend. “Hange, you can’t be serious.” 

“He’ll be fine, Captain.” 

“It’s one thing to assist a team of soldiers—”

The soft way in which Hange says your name does nothing to calm you down. 

“—but to send a single man down there. Fuck’s sake, there must be around twelve titans wandering the perimeter.” 

“I know—”

“And more are coming from the horizon.” 

“This is Levi we’re talking about!” they say with an encouraging, albeit nervous grin. 

You walk closer, nearly stepping on their toes. Little does Hange know you have little tolerance for those kinds of comments. From up close, your wide stare bores into them. “A man. Not some… some invincible war machine. Levi is a man with his own limits too.” 

Hange places their hand on your shoulder and offers a gentle squeeze, their gesture of apology. “Yes, of course. Erwin has thought of everything. That’s why the squad he assembled will be ready in case of any eventualities.” 

You remain tense under their grip. “I don’t doubt he can do it. I know he’s a prodigy. What pisses me off is how lightly this is being taken just because he’s strong. We’re still throwing a man made of flesh and bones into hell by himself while we watch from the safety of the wall.” Your insides twist at the mere thought. The idea is all kinds of fucked up. You aim your scowl at the floor so Hange doesn’t receive the full brunt of it undeserved. 

“This was the parliament’s condition. It’s our only chance of winning them over. Levi can do it. He will pass this crap with flying colors, I’m sure. We can’t let personal emotions get in the way of something that is otherwise entirely plausible, Captain.” 

You keep yourself convinced that you’re not being personal about it, but rational. If Levi is so important to the scouts, Erwin should be taking measures to preserve that once in a lifetime miracle, not overexpose it. 

“Where is Erwin?”

“Girl,” they sigh.

“I’m going to talk to him.” You slip away from their hand.  

For quite an exclusive space of work, it’s fairly crowded today. The cannons lined over the ledge are left untouched, devoid of purpose now that the burden has been passed on to a single man. Varying symbols —dual wings of white and blue, red roses and green mares— are mixed in a sea of soldiers that stand all across the top of the wall with matching uniforms and equipment, their respective emblems linking them to a different regiment. 

A small group in formal clothing stands out among the rest. The Mitras nobility is here, and you can see based on their excited chatter that they’re expecting an exclusive show to drive away the boredom of an easy life for a moment or two.

You’re itching to kick them off the wall. 

A sudden grip on your forearm halts you in your tracks. You spin your head around and find familiar silver eyes. Your frown melts from your face in the blink of an eye, not wanting to bare your fangs to the very victim you’re trying to protect. He’s well put together in his uniform, cravat styled around his neck, and donning the wings of freedom like a proper scout. Leather harnesses wrap around his slender figure, holding the ODM gear to his body.

“What’s got you so worked up?” he asks, yet the knowing look in his gaze tells you he already made a guess. 

“Where’s Erwin?”

“Why do you want to speak to him?” 

You’re too frustrated to hide anything. “You seriously cannot be thinking this is even remotely sane.” 

“There’s not a lot of sanity in the walls to begin with.” 

You pull your arm back to your side. “I’m serious, Levi.”

“So am I.” He stares at you for a moment, gauging up your expression. “I could say the same to you about sneaking into the parliament house.”

“That was different.”

“Different how?”

“In the sense that I didn’t have a dozen man-eating fuckers after my ass, that’s how.”

“It really isn’t a big deal.”

His indifference does little to quell your worries. “You’re—”

“Abnormal,” he says. “Just like those titans. We’ll have a fest together.” 

Your brows knit into your eyes and you smack his chest with the back of your hand, knuckles digging into hard muscles. One would think based on your reaction that he insulted you. “That’s not funny, Levi.” You sound serious and deeply hurt, taking it upon yourself to be offended in his stead. 

Your vulnerability tears through his stoic mask and brings out a look that shows something; even if the change is slight. His eyes open a fraction and his lips part with only a thread of space between them. It’s a mix between mild surprise and another much softer feeling you can’t put a name to. 

He pulls himself together after a couple of seconds. “Sorry.” The word is quiet and insecure, could be silenced if the wind blew just a little stronger. It’s evident Levi doesn’t really know how to react to a response he didn’t expect. 

“Just the thought of having to stand here while you’re in enemy territory by yourself, fighting those ugly faces like it’s a circus show.” Your hands close into fists. “As if titans weren’t widely known to be the most dangerous creatures around. It’s disgusting, Levi.”

He listens, still unable to completely pull his usual indifference back together over his face. 

“And you are a person,” you continue. “If you let yourself forget that, others will too. They’ll start treating you like you’re some kind of unbreakable weapon, never settling, raising the bar to ridiculous heights until you snap, taping you back together each and every time until nothing’s left.” You look away from his eyes and sigh. “I can’t let them break you like that.” 

“Hey.” Levi steps closer. The call is soothing, as if he's trying to make you fall asleep. His hand rises. You aren’t sure if it’s aiming for your arm or your face. 

It doesn’t get to touch you anywhere. Erwin steps into your peripheral vision and Levi is forced to retrieve his arm back to his side.

“We’re all set,” he tells Levi. His focus then shifts to you, and you can immediately feel his perceptive eyes breaking down the details of your expression. “Is something the matter, Captain?”

You open your mouth.

“Just reminding me to not fuck it up,” Levi answers for you.

“Actually—” you say.

“And warning me not to waste gas on pointless tricks.”

Erwin alternates his stare between the two of you. Though your lips don’t move, your expression spills a thousand words at him. After a long pause, he answers with, “Valid observation,” making it clear he won’t entertain the situation longer than he has to. The entirety of his attention is focused on getting the parliament’s approval. “Time to move, Levi.”

“I’ll be right there.” 

Erwin takes a step towards the established direction, and upon realizing his follower remains rooted in front of you with his eyes on yours, he stops. 

Levi notices and looks at him. “In a minute.” 

Erwin stalls for a second before he acquiesces, taking his leave to give you both some privacy. 

Once he's far away enough, Levi turns back to you. “It's not worth it. He'll only continue to get wary.”

“What more damage can it do? You've already been assigned to a different squad.”

It was a bittersweet feeling. The committed soldier in you saw her little fledgling leaving the nest to pursue greater things. Despite the disagreements, Erwin didn't deny the growth Levi had under your supervision when he relayed the news of his transfer to you. It was a formal meeting where no other topics were brought up. He was doing you a favor, and you know that. 

As his partner, however —or the other half of the weird thing he calls us— you loathe the thought of losing him, and to Erwin of all people. In your mind, no one else can understand Levi the way you do. No one will respect his boundaries and comfort him and think about his limits like you do—today being a prime example of what awaits him. 

You just can't help being overprotective of him. 

“Quit worrying,” he says, but his voice is serene, laden with a tender emotion. “You know I must do this. And I can, so why shouldn't I?”

You avert your gaze to the open terrain that lies past the walls. Titans of all sizes haunt those grounds. A lot of those change their course to the walls, likely after having caught a whiff of the human scent that is concentrated within the walls. 

It can't be helped. Everyone has done their part to get to this point. Including Levi. You can't force him to quit during the final stretch. 

“I'll see you after,” he says.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You can tell he wants to touch you in some way, but refrains from doing so. Instead, he walks away to see his duty through. 

-

You sigh. 

“I said I'm fine.”

Your hands wander inside the drawer, arranging items as you search for the container of salve. “Sixteen titans was overkilled.”

“But I got it done.”

“And now those shitty nobles are entertaining the idea of saving up on canon maintenance by depending on you more.” You grab the salve and throw the drawer shut, releasing your anger upon it. “Fucking pigs.”

“We got the funds approved.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You're acting as if I lost a limb in the process. Nothing happened to me.” 

You turn around to fix your eyes on Levi's grouchy stare. He sits on the edge of your bed, maroon bruises of different shades and sizes dotting across his bare torso. 

Levi is fine. The process was smooth and relatively quick; with no setbacks or emergency situations. Titans dropped one after another like domino pieces, the man responsible so agile he was but a blurred speck in the vast expanse of the enemy territory before the many eyes watching on top of the wall. 

Minor scratches and bruises are the worst of it, and not even from the work of any titan, but as a consequence of the overly tight harnesses and his extraordinary physical prowess, which pushed his body to the brink of injury. 

Another sigh parts your mouth. “I just worry, okay? I'm allowed to care.” You head over to the bed and raise your hand to tap his shoulder. “Scoot back. I'll treat those bruises now.”

“They can heal on their own just fine.” He insists on opposing you even if your intentions were already discussed before you made him come to your quarters. Still, and despite his poor attempt at resistance, he follows your instruction and settles against the headboard. 

You kick off your shoes and climb in after him, crossing the bed on your knees to sit beside him. “They will heal better and faster this way. Look, just shut up and be still. I'll do the rest.”

Levi watches while you open the container. His stare presses down on you with an invisible force, carrying questions you refuse to confront, so you keep your attention on your hands as they work. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gentle. “I really am alright.”

“I know, Levi,” you sigh, suddenly feeling ridiculous that you're even thinking all these thoughts. “Sorry. I don't mean to be annoying.”

“No.” His finger brushes a stray hair from your face. Your gaze finally meets his, two pools of silver filled with adoration for you. “You're fine like this. Be annoying for all I care.”

You have a hard time keeping yourself from swirling into the depths of that captivating look. Glancing down, you sink your fingers into the salve and target a bruise on his sternum. It’s a maroon dot the size of a grape, but the darkness of the shade tells you the hit was rough. Your fingers slide over his skin, almost as if floating above it, mindful while smearing the ointment. 

Bruises of reddish color also mark his skin, following the patterns of the leather harnesses down the sides of his torso. They go past his v-line and disappear into his black cotton pants. 

You smear more of the ointment over them, consistent with your light touches. 

He has bruises on top of scars that have long since healed over; dented and jagged lines carved over different plots of pale skin, some wider than others; some deeper or longer than others. 

“Your scars would look less rough if you were consistent with the salve,” you point out.

“It was difficult to keep tabs when I hardly felt them half the time.”

You glance at him for a brief moment. “Most of these had to be stitched up. How did you not feel them?”

He shrugs. 

One scar in particular cuts a deep, diagonal line down his waist, engraved on the skin with the poor work of stitches. A smaller one sits right beside it, the result of a stab wound. You can tell by their proximity that they likely happened on separate times. 

The patterns are clear drawings on his body. Skin barely gets time to heal before it's put under strain again. It repeats and repeats, and still, he doesn’t break. 

His body tells different stories, and even if Levi refuses to acknowledge it, it also cries for compassion and gentleness. 

You slide two fingers over the stab wound, careful as if the scar were fresh. “What happened here?” 

He follows your line of sight. “I made poor choices as a kid. Got caught.”

You can’t imagine a child suffering to the extremes he shows on his physique. You wonder how many times he had to be beat up for him to become the expert thief he was at some point. “How old were you?” you ask. 

He thinks it over for a second. “Eleven, maybe.”

“Did you have to stitch them up yourself?”

“My guardian at the time treated them.”

Your eyes lift. The existence of a person of such significance in his life after his mother’s passing is recent news to you. There are several questions you wish to ask. 

“Not worth bringing up,” he says. “Bastard was full of bullshit and is the main reason I'm fucked up in the first place.”

“Oh, so he was like a mentor? He taught you how to survive down there, I’m guessing.” 

“Among other useless shit.”

Your hand continues to work on his bruises. “Like what?”

He knows you’re prying into personal matters, but doesn’t do anything to reproach it, even if he isn't the most pleased to talk about this person. “Like taking puffs on a cigarette.” He huffs. “That thing reeks and it ruins your teeth. I always hated that stink on him.”

“Is that why you have these?” You run your fingers over the couple of cigarette burns on his side. 

He looks down and stays thinking, like he has suddenly remembered they were there. “That was from a business owner, I think. Again, I was a dumb kid with little experience.”

You gather more salve with your fingers. “Didn't you have this father figure at the time helping you out at least a little with all these endeavors?” 

“I wouldn’t call him a father figure. He was just there whenever he pleased. Whenever he remembered I existed.”

“He must have cared in some way if he always came back.” You treat a dark bruise on his bicep with soft dabs. 

“Until he didn’t.”

“Do you think something happened to him?”

“I don’t know. I stopped wondering a long time ago.” 

Your feelings for him make this hard to hear, but you want to know more. You want to know about the past that took part in shaping the Levi you have today. You want to lend an ear and understand his struggles. 

“You must have been young when you lost your mom.”

He hums. “I think I remember her corpse more than her actual face.” It’s spoken with openness and an even tone that makes it sound like he's commenting on light topics. “I'm sure she was beautiful.”

You flick your eyes up to his face for just a brief second before you move them back to his chest, where you smear more of the ointment. Every part of him is beautiful, so even if he only shared a single trait with his mother, whether that was her eyes or her nose or the color of her hair, it’s a given it made her look beyond beautiful as well. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I'm sure of that too.” In spite of keeping your gaze down, you know his eyes are on you, staring physical warmth into you. 

He doesn’t provide an answer after that, so you continue to treat his bruises. The silence gives way for your restless heart to take center stage. You also hear the sheets rustling whenever you stir one way or the other. 

He surprises you with a tender hold on your wrist. Your fingers stop moving, but they linger on his skin. 

“You care like she did,” he says, almost like a breath. Speaking any louder wouldn't suit the moment. “You're the only one who treats me like I was made of glass.”

You wouldn’t say he’s glass. Far from it, actually. He’s the strongest person you have met, and it isn't just about his physical strength. His exterior wouldn't be the same without all that he is on the inside. Compassion, loyalty, the willingness to learn from mistakes and accept them; those qualities among others, in your opinion, constitute his real strength.

Levi isn’t glass, but sometimes, he deserves to be treated like he was. 

“Does it bother you?” you ask. 

His warm touch slides up your arm and closes around your bicep. He tugs you to him, keeping you close so he can whisper, “I don't mind being glass in front of you.” It has more breath than voice, and what little sound there is comes out low and throaty. In this narrow world of air that lingers between you and him, he shares this secret part of him with you, where nothing outside of this space is allowed, not even the furniture that fills your room. It’s only him and you. 

His eyes look so pure when they’re bare. The stoic walls he usually hides behind add a certain roughness to his whole mien, but as he is now, he embodies all that is soft and caring and guileless. His irises swirl with life and his pupils glint like precious stones in the low light.

You release a wayward breath against his mouth. “I bet you were a beautiful child.”

Levi tilts closer, and your noses bump. He stares into you with his emotions on his sleeve. “If you believe my mom.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I believe her.”

His palm skims from your bicep to the back of your neck, and he drags you in, lips nudging into yours with the softest of approaches, like anything stronger will make him crack. It reminds you of your first kisses with him, when everything was still and careful. He lingers against your mouth, just breathing you in, basking in the softness of your lips. 

You lift your hand to his hair and weave your fingers through his dark locks. You card them down his scalp, stopping over the wiry hairs of his undercut. The balm is forgotten between your bodies, and you cup the side of his face in your other palm, thumb dusting back and forth on his cheekbone. 

Levi picks up a bit of movement from there, though nothing abrupt. It’s the soft smack of lips plucking apart and weaving together again, tender slotting against each other and careful brushes; loving words that needn’t be spoken out loud. 

You find that he’s squeezing his eyes when you peek at him with your lidded gaze. Fervent emotions knit his brows upwards and into each other, forming an expression that is open and vulnerable. 

A wave of profound adoration crashes over you. It’s a feeling so strong and true that you don’t know how to act upon. You doubt anything could quell it, because you have him here, completely to yourself, but your body shivers and yearns like that isn’t enough. You hold him in your hands and still, you wish you could touch him more, show him every piece of you and let him consume your whole world.

You want him too badly. You want him like an addict wants their drug. 

You pull away only to lean back in, this time to pucker your lips against his cheek, then under his eye, and then the eyelid on that same side, kisses so soft it’s like you’re showering a newborn with the purest kind of love. 

Levi receives in silence. Your hand on his cheek tilts his head down so you can place your mouth on the center of his forehead. It then skims to his temple to place a kiss there, then travels down to kiss his other eye. 

His skin burns under your touch, prickling with goosebumps, and his breathing turns ragged, as if you were slowly killing him with your lips on his face. 

Another tickle of a kiss touches the tip of his nose. Another one taps the corner of his mouth and the last one links your lips again. 

Levi is a mess when you pull back, sunken into his shoulders with both hands fisting the sheets, skin glowing with a strong shade of red. His furrowed brows paint a tortured look on his face, glassy pupils staring back at you through squinted eyes. His jaw shifts, showing with the tension across those muscles that his teeth are pressed together behind the unsteady line of his lips. 

You thread delicate fingers through his dark bangs and feel the hot skin of his forehead. “You okay?”

“Just…” He struggles to speak through the knot in his throat. “Not used to this.” 

“I can stop.”

“No,” he breathes. Nothing more is added, or else you might hear how fragmented and weak his voice truly is. 

You reel in again to kiss the flushed tip of his ear. His hands shoot down to your waist and grab on for dear life, needing your weight as support to keep himself from floating away to a different plane of reality. He squirms when your lips press into the back of his ear, breaths heavy and warm on your shoulder. 

You travel down to his jaw and kiss him there. You kiss him over his frantic pulse and a little lower than that. You slot into the nub at the center of his throat, feeling it bob when he swallows. 

He is liquid against the headboard, drunk to the point of heavy stupor, as if you were injecting liquor into him with every kiss. Your hand on his cheek slides down, going over his hot neck and then the protruded bones on his collarbone, eventually finding the spot on his chest above his screaming heartbeat. The other one stays around his nape, kneading it with the same care that has dumbed him down beyond the ability to speak. 

You stay with your face dipped into the hollow of his neck, peppering his skin with light kisses wherever you can reach. 

He stirs, tilts his chin up and heaves a tight breath, the smallest of sounds weaved in between, something low and delicate ripping from the depths of his chest. 

Your fingers caress his skin, mindful of the treated bruises as you take your hand down the dips and ridges of his abdomen. He sucks for air like he's drowning, hot pants pouring all over your ear from an open mouth, and he squirms under your palm like you're zapping him. 

You mouth the junction of neck and shoulder with kisses that tickle the skin. In response, Levi lets his head drop forward, cheek sliding along the side of yours, and he stops with his face hovering right above your shoulder. His lean stomach pushes into your palm with every intake of air. 

You move further down, hand finding the hard outline between his thighs, and you keep it there without squeezing or rubbing. You show him the same type of gentle regard you've offered to the rest of his body. 

Beside you, you hear a smack on the headboard as Levi snaps his head against it. He drags his leg over the mattress, pulling it in for only a second before he spreads it back into place, unable to accept what you're giving him without reacting in some way. 

Your hand makes it to his thigh and begins to rub it, fingers kneading into sturdy muscle. You pull back to take in the beauty of his shattered expression. 

He's lost behind a fog, glassy eyes buried deep under devotion and a helpless sort of feeling. His instant response after catching you looking with your big, doe eyes is to turn his face the other way, eyes pinched with what you can only call embarrassment. 

“You still get so shy,” you coo through whispers. “You just can't get used to being the center of attention, hm?” 

His gaze opens wide, then it flicks down to watch your hand work him up to full hardness. His whole face pinches again when you place your lips on the corner of his mouth. He looks tortured in the best way possible, the same expression that comes to life when he's feeling so much and doesn't know how else to show it. 

It isn't extravagant or lust-driven. There's no teasing, no overwhelming heat, but a connection beyond the physical. Love in the shape of dotting touches and breathed words. You rub him slowly, pace steady and soft, caring for him. 

Levi lets his head hang forward again, and your foreheads connect. 

He looks at you, and you look at him. His hand gravitates to your face with an urge to touch you, fingers brushing your cheek. Bluish-silvers bore into you like flames melting iron. 

You won't let them break him. You won't let anyone ruin him. You would do anything to protect his exterior so that the man of glass he holds inside can live on without cracks. Your heart is filled with love for him. All of him, habits and imperfections included. There's nothing you wouldn't take. 

Levi gasps. His eyes are closed and his mouth slack. 

“Gonna make a mess all over yourself, sweetness?” The words drip from your mouth like you were drunk yourself. 

He nods. 

Your lips meet his in a kiss. The fingers that were previously dusting over your cheek clamp their searing touch on your skin. Levi heaves down your throat and mixes quiet sounds with it. 

He finishes in his pants and looks just as beautiful while he's spent. His lips don't stop their kneading, and now that half of his attention isn't being taken by your hand, he pours all of himself into your mouth, his other palm coming up so both sides of your face are claimed. 

You know you're in love. Nothing has ever felt like this before. 

Chapter Text

The Scouting Legion's base of operation is a dot of safety within the vast expanse of enemy territory. It's located at the foot of a hill, where selected men and women of skill watch over the perimeter while the leaders of the scouts continue their meeting.

The small tent is crammed with talent and years of experience, soldiers that are responsible for the fates of those brave enough to follow them outside the walls. 

“I can’t stress this enough.” Erwin leans over the table, large hands plastered on the map. “Our priority is to detect and evade. We do not confront the titans unless any of the conditions apply.

“Leaders of recon and relay, understand that the communication of the entire formation depends on your delivery. We need you at your absolute best. You protect not only the carts, but your comrades as well.”

Recon makes up the front of the formation. It's the first line of defense against the titans, and where Levi has been stationed. You're with relay on the second row, tasked with keeping the line of communication going so it reaches command at the center of the formation. You'll only be a couple of spots below Levi's team, but considering it's spread out, you won't be able to see each other. 

Erwin steps back to give Commander Keith some room at the front. Dark undereye bags outline his sunken stare, shedding light on the stress that has been depriving him of rest. “There you have it,” he says, tone domineering. “Chewed up and fed to you in a sippy cup. I don’t want any mistakes. We depend on the longevity of the supply carts and our numbers if we want to make it anywhere near our destination. Don’t fuck it up. We depart in half an hour. Ready up your troops. Dismissed.” 

You follow the others out of the tent and into the open. Soldiers walk around camp in preparation for a quick departure. The walls holding civilization within them are miles upon miles behind you, and soon, Keith will guide his army even further away, where titans dominate the land.

You walk up to your team, who stand with their horses awaiting their instructions. They stop their conversation once you make it to their circle. 

“Check gear and saddle up,” you say. “I want you ready and on standby.” 

They reply with a nod and a perfect chorus of ‘yes, Captain’ before they proceed to do as told. You watch them scurry around for gas tanks and extra blades, Levi’s figure suddenly appearing among them as he makes his way to you. Your soldiers pause their movements once they notice him, intent on offering the man a friendly greeting while he passes by. 

It warms up your heart to see them interact. Your team grew fond of Levi after the last expedition. They learned to trust him, and they were rightfully disheartened when you told them about his transfer to a different team. 

If anything, it’s proof of what’s possible. You can already see it. Before long, the thug turned scout will be a figure of admiration within the army. 

Levi catches you adjusting the saddle of your horse. He cuts the distance between you so only you receive the private message he has for your ears. “No dying.”

Betraying your serious expression, your eyes can’t help but gleam at the sight of him. “We’ll be careful.” You pull the belt tight around your horse. “No issues with Gelgar’s team so far?”

He moves his eyes to locate them. “We’re fine.” 

“That’s good to hear.”

Levi looks at you again, taking his time to memorize every part of your face like he won’t get to see it again for a while. His next step hesitates, but he moves even closer. “I’ll see you later,” is spoken with a breath against your lips. 

You stare deep into his gorgeous eyes. “Right,” you whisper. “You be careful too, Levi.”

The moment stretches for as long as Levi can let it. It’s peaceful between you, but the fear of prying eyes makes you turn your head away first. 

Levi heads back to his team without another word, and you follow him from the corner of your eye until he disappears behind the crowd. 

You climb your horse and pull at the reins to make it turn around. “My soldiers, get in position.” 

-

The terrain is clear, incredibly so. It’s almost hard to believe. With nothing to distract you from the view, the grassland seems never ending, far away mountains poking out from the horizon. Birds fly overhead among moving clouds, their chirps melding with the continuous stomp of the hooves. 

One would think the world was clear of titans.

Reality isn’t as sweet. 

Red flares shoot into the sky in a wide semi circle at the head of the formation. The soldiers firing those flares are the ones braving out no man’s land, facing titans on every corner of their location for the good of the regiment. Your job is cakewalk compared to theirs. All you do is pick up their signals and relay them. 

“Fire the flare,” you tell the squad leader, who answers with a firm ‘yes, Captain’ and proceeds to do as told.

A red streak of smoke flies in a wobbly line towards the sky, far enough to be seen by the scouts placed deeper in the formation. From then on, it’s a matter of waiting for the commander’s signal. His flare will dictate the new path the formation will take. 

It’s been a work of brilliance months in the making; on the road to perfection after a series of trial and error expedition after expedition. It’s the genius plan of a man with a whole life dedicated to the scouts. Erwin Smith is carrying the better portion of the legion on his back, and it might not be long before he entrusts Levi with the other half. 

A green trail of smoke fires into the left, indicating a new direction. You take out a pistol and fire it in the same direction to relay the message to those flanking the formation. You steer your horse and march forward with your soldiers in tow. 

The path ahead strays further from the safety of the walls. The scouts are to journey on for the mountains and set camp on a spot steep enough to make it hard for the titans to climb undetected, giving the scouts an easier time defending the perimeter while reconnaissance does its job. 

The first step is to make it there without losing soldiers to the titans. The formation has been broken down to the last detail both in theory and practice, but plans have a history of being prone to setbacks and miscalculations, so it’s as much of a gamble as it would have been without all the training the scouts underwent. 

“Titan.”

You stop your train of thinking to glance sideways. A sluggish titan approaches on two legs, dragging its feet with heavy stomps on the ground. Its mop of dark hair and bright eyes are human-like in nature, but everything else about it makes it a monster of sheer ugliness. 

“Must have snuck past the eyes of recon,” you say. “Eliminate the threat, Squad Leader. Take someone with you to assist.”

While the couple of soldiers breaks away from the squad, you slow down the pace of your horse to give them time, inviting everyone else to do the same. The two scouts work in tandem to sever the limbs and then fly in for a safe kill. 

“Captain!” one of your squadmates calls behind you. 

You see them. Three more titans coming in from the same direction. “That’s odd.” It's one thing to miss a single titan, but an entire horde should be impossible to disregard unless the formation has spread out to the point that titans can walk through squads undetected. The radius between stations shouldn’t go over visual distance.

You attach your grips to a blade each and pull them out from their scabbard. “We’re helping them. Let’s get this done quickly and efficiently. We can’t risk our position in the formation.” 

The rest of the team mimics your actions and trot behind you on their horses, ready to engage upon your directive. You assign a titan to every couple of soldiers in your team and steer away to face the remaining one on your own. 

This titan walks on four legs as would a dog with broken joints. Its step stumbles on its way to your horse, curtains of blond hair framing its hideous face, where a couple of eyes peer like lamplights in the dark.

You leave your horse for the sky, cables firing into a nearby trunk. You reel the grapples and haul yourself through the air at high speed, wind sifting through your hair. The titan lifts itself on two knees to free up a hand for your capture, but you fix your course so your blades slash right through its boney bicep. 

Though the titan moans, it doesn’t appear to be in pain. Instead, it moves around in search of you. The ODM gear is faster, and it takes you around the monster in a semicircle before it has finished turning around, leaving its nape wide open.

You fire your cables on the targeted spot and pull in. The momentum powers up your attack, titan falling right after the slash, devoid of life among the rising dirt.  

The ground shakes again. You raise your head and come eye to eye with a new trio of titans, an abnormal among them. 

“What the hell?” you mutter to yourself. One was fine. Three more was strange. Seven in total is downright concerning. Something must have happened to the line of defense. “I don’t like this one bit.” 

“Captain!” one of your soldiers calls. “Your orders, ma’am!” 

You’re too close to the wagons to allow these titans to live. The only choice is to confront and eliminate at the cost of possibly disrupting the formation. 

Should you fire an emergency flare? You aren’t too sure about that either. No one from the far right has given you any indication that they’re in trouble, and you can’t risk causing havoc over a supposition. 

“Fire the black flare,” you command. It should at least alert the commander of the types of titans you’re encountering and from which direction they're coming. “Orders remain the same. Take down the titans. Make it quick and rejoin the formation. Leave the abnormal to me.” 

The squad breaks apart to do your bidding. You fly towards the speedy abnormal and target its legs first, hoping to slow it down. 

Your team isn’t designed for harcore titan extermination, but there’s enough talent and camaraderie to get the job done right. 

The last titan falls as you’re sheathing your blades back into their scabbards, its slayer standing proudly nearby, putting away his weapons to join his circle of comrades, who all await your orders. 

You’re looking in the direction those titans came from, wondering about the status of the station flanking yours. You refuse to believe seven titans went past them without noticing. Something is wrong.

“Captain!” A voice that isn’t from your team pairs the title with your name. The station behind yours has caught up. “What are you doing here?” The team leader studies the graveyard of dead titans, steam coming from their disintegrating corpses. “Wait, what? What the hell happened to the line of defen—?”

A purple flare drags every pair of eyes to a spot near the horizon that the formation has long since left behind. There isn’t a living soul that should still be there. The formation went past that zone about twenty minutes ago and you doubt anyone’s close enough to provide the aid they’re requesting. 

The leader of your neighboring station looks on with a glum expression that states he has already given up on them. “I guess that explains the infiltrating titans. We’ll have to take on the task of spotting and communicating.” 

You sharpen your gaze at the horizon, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach when you realize something. “T-that’s… the forest marked on the map. The flare is coming from there.”

“Yeah.”

Gelgar’s team was the only one tasked with riding near it. They were supposed to keep an eye on the titans that might arise from there.  

“Levi,” you whisper. 

“Hey,” the leader from the other squad reads the intention behind your eyes. “If someone at the rear is close enough, they’ll go to assist. Our job is here.” 

“No one is close enough.” Your voice is shaking, eyes wide. “They’re way behind. And the right flank of the rear won’t risk exposing the med wagon. It’s far too valuable.”  

“Still—”

You climb your horse and pull the reins so hard it’s forced to stand on its back legs. “Hyah!” You urge it forward with the kick of your heels. 

“Captain, wait—!” He can only reach out to thin air as your horse races past him. 

He mentions something about the formation you can’t be bothered to listen to. You focus every sense on your destination and lock on it like it’s your lifeline, even pulling out a sixth sense to keep yourself sharp on your journey through titan land. 

You snap the reins and clamor for more speed. Your horse has no choice but to comply to the blind insistence of its rider and run to its full capacity. 

Terrain upon open terrain makes up a wide clearing that does not offer cover or any steady surfaces to attach your hooks to. You’re crossing dangerous grounds with only luck and a heavy heart binding you to Levi. 

The sound of running horses catches up to you, urging you to look behind you. 

Your team has been following you on your risky escapade and you have half a mind to care. Orders were never given on your behalf, but it helps that they’re here. Your soldiers will be of great assistance to whatever mess you’re on your way towards. 

The grove is getting closer. In your proximity, you notice that the flare was fired from within. Soldiers have room to travel and take cover on the trees, so even if a horde has them cornered, there’s a high chance they’re all still alive. 

You hope to God Levi isn’t defending the squad on his own. You’ll murder Gelgar if he is. 

The moment you make it to the entrance of the forest is exactly when you jump off your horse to fire your hooks at the trees and rush forward on compressed gas. 

It isn’t long before you hear the moans of dying titans crashing the ground and raising dust with them. The trunks come and go past the sides of your vision as you fly in a straight line towards the source of the commotion. 

You recognize the struggling sounds of Levi as he exerts mind and body to make titan after titan fall to its knees. He’s a blurred dot of sharp ends spinning behind napes that get slashed in a matter of seconds. 

It’s not enough, titans spawn like the devil’s minions and walk in from among the trees into the clearing. Half of Gelgar’s team, including the leader himself, assists Levi in the field. The other half takes cover to protect the wounded. 

You join the battle with a fresh set of blades in hand. Your team follows the example and breaks apart to fill in where it’s needed. 

You realize soon after that getting anywhere near Levi’s vicinity would be detrimental to the fighter as much as the bystander. He’s unhinged, flying at such speed anyone stupid enough to cross his path would get minced to bits alongside the titans. The man is in flight or fight mode, an embodiment of the mindless war machine that comes out into the open as a last resort. 

You decide to focus on the titans invading the outer edge of the clearing, aiming to alleviate the load Levi is carrying within it. The smaller titans are difficult to deal with since decreasing height would mean putting yourself at risk of getting trampled on by the larger titans. On the other hand, soaring through the air renders you down to a fly moving between giant faces and agile hands in their quest to catch you. 

It’s a dangerous situation however you see it, and you doubt the team would have made it out on their own had no one come to help. You have no regrets about your decision. 

Your blades snap after five kills and several limbs. You pull out a new pair and jump back to work. 

Sweat rolls down your face in beads. Your heart thumps beyond its limit to keep your body alive at the speed it’s going. You have never done work so strenuous, but the motivation behind your actions is pulling you through it. You didn’t think attachment could be this empowering. Titans continue to fall at your feet one after another. 

You stop on a branch as the last one in your section collapses to its knees. You discard the damaged blades and fly back to the clearing.

The fighting has stopped. No more titans are coming in. Your squad arrives after you with all its members still well and alive. You spot Gelgar gathering up his own team, doing his best to keep his tone commanding in spite of his lack of breath. Levi zips past them and stops on solid ground for some privacy, steam coming from the bloody stains on his clothes. 

You heave a sigh of relief. 

It’s over. 

One of your soldiers flies down to check up on their old teammate, but Levi swirls around as soon as he feels the intrusion and steps back like his comrade is the incarnation of a titan trying to approach him. 

“Stay the hell away,” he growls. 

It catches your teammate off guard. 

You fix your course so it takes you to the scene, a motherly instinct taking over. It seems the adrenaline rush has kept him overwhelmed. 

Levi doesn’t notice your arrival even though you appear in the corner of his sight. You call his name before any attempt at moving is made, just to be sure he won’t react negatively to your approach. 

He’s soaked in blood, slit eyes deadly on their sole recipient between soaping bangs of hair. His clothes are slightly out of place but not torn or ruined. He hasn’t sustained any major injuries for the looks of it. The red stains on his face are beginning to evaporate, revealing bruised skin underneath.  

“Levi.” Your next call is louder, and you’re closer despite your better judgment.

When his stare finds you, something in it changes. He stalls without movement or words, appearing to doubt what his eyes are showing him, like seeing you here could only come from a dream. 

His mouth parts, quiet questions seeping through a tight breath before he recovers enough air to speak. “What… are you doing here?” His voice doesn’t flow out in its usual, even line, still too strained and blown from the fight. 

You walk closer, offering him a safe space in your gaze. “Backup. I saw the emergency flare.”

“I don’t think you were supposed to do that.” Even so, he takes in the sight of you like it’s the only thing that can give him life back. 

“Alas, I’m here.” You pull out a handkerchief from the inner pocket of your jacket and hand it to him. The sharpness in his eyes is finally gone, now lidded with exhaustion as he looks down at your hand and its offer. “Are you okay, Levi?”

“Yeah.” He accepts the handkerchief. “I think I fucked up.”

“What?”

His head turns, and you follow his line of sight to a scout on the floor, a comrade kneeling beside him to check his state. You can’t tell whether he’s breathing or not from where you stand, but the worst of his injuries appears to be the bloody wound on his head, which shouldn't be life threatening if the circumstances surrounding it are minor. 

Several questions rise as you watch. Levi crosses your vision on his way to the scout, so you follow after him. 

The scout is, indeed, breathing. Unconscious, for the looks of it. You gauge Levi’s expression. Within his usual, stoic nature, you realize that something is out of place, something that would be unnoticeable to the untrained eye that doesn’t know him like you do.

Before you can ask what the hell is up, another scout speaks up. 

“He’ll be fine, Levi.” Gelgar steps into view with his arms crossed, blond hair brushed up into a puffy mop at the front, a trait characteristic of his unique style. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all saw what happened.”

Levi huffs through his nose. Without another word, he walks away for some space. 

Gelgar watches him for a slight moment before he turns back to you. “Captain,” he greets. 

“Squad leader,” you say back, then glance down at the unconscious soldier. “Did Levi do something…?”

“Kid didn’t take the ambush too well. He freaked out on us and clung to Levi’s neck. Given the circumstances, it was safer for him to be knocked out cold. He could have easily gotten any of us killed.”

“Oh, I see.” That definitely contributed to Levi’s restlessness. Him worrying about the scout shows to others that he cares, though. And it seems his reputation hasn't suffered any blows from this. 

“I can’t thank you enough for your help, Captain, though I wasn't expecting to see someone from relay coming here.”

“The situation is a bit complicated right now. You were far behind the formation when the flare was fired and we’re likely completely out of sight by now.” 

Gelgar’s expression falls. “Shit, it’s been that long?”

You nod.

“So the line of defense…”

“Has a gap, yes. Including my station.” 

The muscles across his jaw shift, filled with tension from clenching his teeth. “We have to find our horses and get out of here.” 

“We know the route. We can still catch up.”

He nods, hopeful. “Yeah.” A groan then leaves him. “Damn it, this sucks. I need a drink.”

You won’t hear the end of it from Keith and Erwin once you get back, that’s for sure. You need a drink too. 

Chapter Text

You run out of every possible excuse that could delay your visit to Erwin’s office. 

The prelude to that lecture, orchestrated by none other than the commander himself, had taken place right in the middle of camp after you joined back with the legion. He was so loud it turned every pair of eyes in your direction. His words were degrading, to say the least. You could only be silent and take them, even when you had several opinions to give back. 

Considering the humbling insults spoken to you, it’s safe to say you might not make it past today as a scout. Your second stop on the road to humiliation will be Erwin’s office, and you have several guesses as to what he will say to you. After that, it should be straight to the commander’s to get laid off. 

You turn a corner, skidding to a halt as you nearly run into Levi. He’s coming out of the hallway that holds the many offices of the executives in the scouts, Erwin among them. You don’t have to make any guesses as to where he was. It’s evident he just went through the sermon you’re on your way to receiving. 

You sigh. “Don’t tell me Erwin’s giving you shit for my actions. He should know this has nothing to do with you. It was my choice.”

“I wasn’t sanctioned, no.” His tone is even and his expression guarded, concealing his thoughts under lock and key. “I’m being let off the hook easily compared to you.” 

“I accept the consequences of that.” 

Levi blinks, your answer surprising him. Or rather, your lack of emotion behind it. “You could be punished with a dishonorable discharge.”

“I know that.”

He frowns. “Or confinement for at least a whole year if you’re lucky.”

“So says the law.” 

He's stunned beyond the ability to continue speaking. It’s like he was expecting you to freak out and is, for some reason, upset that you aren’t.

His brows tug inwards with deeper pronunciation, a blend of confusion and exasperation edged into his face. “And you just don’t care?”

“My emotions will not change the outcome. Again, I understand my own actions and accept their consequences.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“I do—”

“You don’t,” he bites, volume of voice rising. “You’re not understanding a single thing.”

You change your stance from slack to dignified, facing up against the antagonism brewing between you. “If anything, it’s you who’s not making any sense. I understand my standing perfectly. I chose you—”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You’re a scout. You dedicate your heart to the cause. That’s what we do.”

You scoff, taken aback by his sudden entitlement. “I don’t need a lecture from you on being a scout, Levi.” 

“You’ve lost sight of who you are.”

You take a step forward. “How dare you?”

He says your name, and it feels demeaning, like he were a parent talking down on a child. “Your team was the bridge of communication between recon and command. You were stationed there because you were trusted, yet you dismissed the formation and ignored an entire regiment. You did exactly what you warned me time and time again not to do. People could have died.”

“But they didn’t.”

Everything you say seems to only be making it worse. It’s as though you’re not understanding something crucial, or seeing what he’s seeing. 

“That’s your excuse?” Now he’s bordering on fury. His stare is honed, a couple of knives for irises firing out towards you, warning you to watch your mouth. “We’re talking about human lives here. You left them at the hands of chance. What about this isn’t clicking?”

You rub your temples and groan. Too many things are happening at once and you don’t know what to focus on, and getting a mouthful from him of all people wasn’t in the equation. “Levi, you’re giving me a fucking headache.”

“Why aren’t you taking me seriously? I don’t understand this. This isn’t you at all.”

That does it. 

“Shut up. Yeah, I’m such a shitty leader, is that what you want me to say? I heard the same lecture from Keith. I’m about to hear it from Erwin and I really don’t need this from you right now. I’m accepting the consequences as they come. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

The pause that builds up between you charges the air and turns it into something different, something you can’t quite put a name to other than knowing it puts several yards of distance in the middle. 

How dare he lecture you on duty? His arguments may fit the facts, but he’s in no position to act like he suddenly knows better than you. 

“We need a break from each other.”

Your scowl crumbles to pieces, jaw dropping to the floor. You offer him a couple of seconds to realize just how stupid he sounded, but he doesn’t take any of it back. 

You’re seething. “Is this your own idea of punishment? Now you’re too disgusted to stand the sight of my face?”

“That's not what I said. It’s to redefine our priorities. We’re too dependent on each other. I know I’m guilty of the same thing. We should have never let it get to this point in the first place.” He speaks like the matter is between two business owners redlining a transaction. 

Your eyes could roll into the back of your skull. “You picked the worst time and place to have this conversation, Levi.” You’re too surprised and irked to feel the weight of the news he has dropped on you. His change of heart is so sudden. “I feel like Erwin had a hand in this.” 

He doesn’t reveal anything on his face, expression stoic and distant. “This is my choice. I'm doing it for the two of us.”

You can’t believe him. “So you already made your decision. You’re not going to talk it out properly with me?”

“You aren’t putting much effort to hear me out in the first place.”

“I have my head in a million other things, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Right, so focus on them right now.” He reaches out to tip your head up with the pad of his index finger on your chin, a gentle touch trying to mask itself as an attempt at showing you some affection. You almost slap it off, but he takes his hand with him on his way out, leaving you by yourself at the foot of the wolf’s den.

You would yell a whole repertoire of curses at him if you weren’t standing in the middle of a public space. 

What the fuck, seriously?

You rush into the hallway and knock on Erwin's door, a purposeless act given that you barge in at the next second. “Erwin, what did you say to him?”

Erwin is a tower of grace and dignity sitting behind his desk. He looks up from his papers, pen in hand. “Are we still on about Levi?”

You shut the door behind you and walk right up to the chair without taking a seat on it. Your hands perch on the top rail instead. “Pretty sure he’s central to the subject.”

“I want to talk about you, Captain.” He sets his pen aside to interlace his hands. “About everything that wasn’t, yet should have been discussed. I’ll be the first to admit I share part of the blame in all this for letting it slide for as long as I did.” Blue eyes regard you with masked contempt, staying professional before your lack thereof. “I want you to be transparent with me. Have you or have you not been involved with Levi beyond the duty that was assigned to you?” 

“I have.” You don't try to hide it. Neither do you show any emotions about it. 

“Do you recognize the damages of such a behavior, Captain?”

“Damages?” Your stare sharpens into a glare. “With all due respect, sir, Levi changed. I did what you couldn’t do—what you asked me to do.”

“That I have never denied.” He retains his mask of neutrality as he says this.

“If him not being a brainless war machine at your disposal is what you call damages, we won’t come to an agreement on this subject.” 

“We’re still talking about Levi.”

“This whole shitshow is about—”

“We’re here to break down your part in this situation, Captain. You’re not seeing the bigger picture.” 

You huff out a breath through your nose to calm yourself. “I'm listening.” 

“You’re approaching this matter from a personal standpoint. For starters, and feel free to correct me if you think I’m wrong, your take on my continuous interference is that I’ve been controlling, possessive, purposely annoying. Driven by ill-intent, perhaps. I’m the enemy trying to take Levi from you.”

It’s futile to remain guarded in the end, because Erwin has gifted eyes that can see through any facade, just like he has seen through Levi before. 

He leads the conversation with poise, superior in spite of being a whole head shorter than you while seated at his desk. 

“Let’s get one thing clear, Captain,” he continues. “Although I can’t admit to having personal feelings about Levi’s happiness, I can acknowledge it has been a good outcome for him. He got lucky, and I have nothing against that. 

“With that out the way, I am a man of this regiment first and foremost, and I will talk business as such. There are reasons for every clause in the Military Code. We don’t penalize fraternization with the intention of meddling into private affairs. I allow enough leniency as it is with my soldiers so long as the outcome doesn’t affect the performance of this regiment.” The following pause appears timed, building tension with the moment he sets aside. “But you are a leader, Captain. You have lives under your command. You play a major part in our battles, so my way of addressing this will be proportionate to the importance of your role.” 

This man knows the precise way of getting his words across; he knows where to breathe, where to stop, when to look at you. He’s a master in the art of persuasion. 

“Captain, put yourself in the shoes of an outsider. I entrust a grieving man to you. He has lost everything in a matter of hours, including his way in this life. He’s in a disadvantageous position, where everyone fears and hates him. A man at the very bottom of the social ladder. And you… in your position of power—”

Your blood drops to your feet. “Erwin,” you whisper, already short of breath.

He remains unaffected. “You had the reins in this situation. You had the status, the knowledge, command over him and my support. So when you get involved with him in this way, how do you think it comes off as?”

He’s implying some serious allegations. Not once did it cross your mind that it could be interpreted that way. “Erwin, I don’t… I just… what?”  

“I’m not saying it is what happened. But you have a position of power in this regiment. You have the eyes of followers and authorities alike on you. And as such, it’s your responsibility to represent your role and the regiment you serve accordingly. We already struggle with our reputation as it is. We needn’t risk exposure where there's no reason to.

“That aside, I have no standard for what your communication with Levi is. How can I be sure it is as you say? How can you be so sure? Are we considering Levi’s side of the story? And I’m saying this from the perspective of an employer looking after the performance and comfort of a soldier in his work environment. Can you guarantee me without a shadow of a doubt that he at no point felt pressured by your position of power?”

You want to say yes, but the man’s way with words is making you doubt yourself. Levi has never looked uncomfortable around you. In fact, he had several chances to shove you off or attack you if he felt assaulted. Even back when it started, he didn’t oppose you despite it being his first time doing anything like it.

Now that your head is spinning, a new question arises, one you had never thought of before. Why didn’t he oppose you? If he had never let anyone touch him, if he was repulsed by fluids and physical contact, if he hated vulnerability, then why did he comply? You weren’t close partners by any means. This whole mess started with a fight and your lack of patience, so what made you different?

Your title, your position of power, his state of mind at the time —as Erwin implies— could have had something to do with it after all. The man was grieving, and he was alone. He needed an outlet of sorts, and you were there to give it. All of these circumstances aligned perfectly in your favor, and they played a part in taking some authenticity away from his consent. At least that’s one way of seeing it—a horrific and absolute way of seeing it. 

“That’s one point I wanted to touch on,” Erwin interrupts the storm wreaking havoc in your mind. “We’ve yet to discuss what all this says about your work with the recruits I’ve sent to you before. Most of them were barely beginning their twenties.”

Another stab to your pride. 

“Erwin,” fear runs through your eyes, “I swear I have never—”

“It’s your word against the proof I have in Levi.” 

Your heart is making a racket inside you, clogging your throat and keeping your voice from leaving you. 

“So now you see what you’ve risked by engaging in all of this. And let’s not forget about your most recent mistake,” he says. “It was by good fortune that we didn’t lose the right flank of my formation to the titans. But my point still stands: you risked lives —lives that have families, their own goals and aspirations, lives with purpose— and you didn’t stop to consider them for a second. You put an entire regiment and our careers in jeopardy because of your feelings for one man.” 

He keeps shoveling dirt over your work integrity, burying it six feet under. It’s cruel, but he’s factual with his points. 

“You didn’t stop to think about what that could have done to your squad.”

Your squad. You let them follow you away from the formation. They did their job as your subordinates, but you didn’t do yours as their leader. You didn’t look over your shoulder once. Anyone could have gotten eaten and you wouldn't have realized it until you got back to camp.

“You didn’t think about how Levi would feel if he knew lives were lost to save his own. I figured you of all people would understand how much that would affect his sanity.” 

A deeper stab through your chest. 

“His future in this regiment was put at stake because of your actions.”

Your head is spinning with all this information. 

“You didn’t think about anyone but yourself.”

Your eyes open wide, glassy with the tears that won’t come out. 

You wait for the list of humiliation to resume, but it seems Erwin has already said everything that needed to be said. 

His expression judges even though there isn’t a curve or line out of place. His posture reduces you to an ant before his mighty presence. You’re stuck in his lair with nothing stopping your escape but his intimidating eyes and bewitching spiel. 

You might drop to your knees without the chair’s support. “I—” you swallow, trying your best to worm your voice through the lump in your throat. “I… I will accept… the consequences of my mistakes.”

“Keith had the form ready to charge you with dismissal from service, forfeiture of all pay and allowances, as well as confinement for three years.” 

Your life is done with. You had your second chance at a future and you gave it all away.

“But he’s not in the position of power to do so anymore.” 

You blink, then look up at him. “.... what?”

“He has bequeathed his role to me.”

Keith Shadis resigned? And here you thought it was strange of Erwin to address him by name. You would laugh at the inopportune timing if you had an ounce of joy in you to manage it. “I… that’s… wow.” Erwin’s rise to the position of commander was only a matter of time. You were one of the many who supported that notion, and now that it’s finally happening, you won’t get to be there to witness it. “I suppose congratulations are in order, Commander. I’m sorry you got stuck with quite the initiation from me.”

“I’m sure I’ll be dealing with far more grievances than this.”

You try to lift your mouth into a smile, but your muscles refuse to cooperate. “I won’t waste your time more than I already have, Commander. I’ll fill out the form and leave.”

“I have spoken from the stance of my role.” He pushes into his chair and rises, gaining an even stronger presence with his broad frame and height. “Now, can you spare a moment to entertain a more personal approach on my part?” 

This man keeps catching you off guard from every direction. “I… sure. Yeah.”

He walks around his desk and makes it to your side, and though his expression remains stolid, the edge in his eyes softens. “I know the kind of soldier you normally are. The soldier that you have been and can be. I have worked with you for close to a decade and have been able to count on you for a great many things. I know that for a while I’ve had your full trust. And for a while, it has gone both ways.”

This is the most personal Erwin has ever gotten with you. “I—thank you.” The circumstances surrounding it are unfortunate, but you appreciate that he’s taking the time to say it. 

“This might not be my most prudent choice as commander, but regardless, legal matters aside, the way I feel about this is that I trust what you’re telling me. I still trust your morality. And I trust the way Levi feels about you.”

You’re tugged back and forth between opposing emotions, going from incrimination to praise in a single moment. 

“At the end of the day, you stepped in and protected the man carrying humanity’s hope on his shoulders. As a leader, I can’t say these things out loud, but Levi’s value isn’t foreign to either of us. I cannot overlook these mistakes. However, with the right discretion, I can ensure your stay in this regiment.” 

“I…” This blond god is looking upon the sinner and extending a hand. You want to sob and become a mess on the chair, feeling undeserving of his mercy. 

“I’ll forfeit two thirds of your monthly pay for the next six months, strip you of most benefits of your title until further notice —consider this an informal approach to demoting you— and assign you 200 hundred hours of service in a different field of work within the Scouting Regiment. Those are my conditions.” 

How can you trust yourself after all that’s been pointed out to you? Some fuck ups are just impossible to come out of.

“Erwin, I… I don’t know...”

He raises a hand to stop you. “I’m not done. I realize your thoughts are all over the place right now, so use the duration of your sanction to think about your standing. What your priorities are. Where your heart lies. Above all, I want you to reflect on your mistakes. I need to be sure that you still understand the value these soldiers have before I put you back in a position to lead them.” 

Dismissing his compassion would be the equivalent of insulting it, so you lower your head and accept the mercy that’s been given to you. 

“Okay,” you breathe. 

“And Captain...” Erwin ensures you’re looking directly into his eyes before he orders, “Do not get involved with Levi anymore. At least for now, cut all forms of communication with him.”

You don’t think you can bring yourself to face him after the light that’s been shed upon your actions. “I understand, Commander.”  

Chapter Text

The noise intensifies as you approach the establishment, light pouring out from under the door and through the windows at the front. It’s a glowing ball among the darkness that surrounds it. 

You halt your step, making your guide stumble as a result. “Uh, I'm not sure about this anymore,” you say. 

“You,” they snatch your wrist again, “need to get out more.”

“Hange.”

“Don’t Hange me. You’ve been pitiful all week.”

You sigh, the exhaustion visible on your face. “It's called grieving.” 

“And you've been grieving a week too long in my opinion. This will do you good, you’ll see.” 

You don't see how a night at the bar amidst noise and the stink of alcohol will make you feel any better. Your appearance has been shit these days and waking up hungover would not help your case.

“I don’t have the social battery for this,” you say. 

“It’ll just be drinks with Moblit, Gelgar and Nanaba. Nothing fancy.” 

“I'll just end up killing the mood.” 

“Quit that. You won’t.”

You don’t feel understood. Hange says you've spent enough time feeling sorry for yourself, yet you feel like cutting it to just a week is expecting too much from you. Not only did you lose your support system without getting any closure, you lost a partner, a relationship that took some of the weight off of work, and in the process, everything about yourself was lost as well. You're going through an existential crisis, trying to figure out who you are and what's important to you. 

“I’m not sure, Hange.”

“You won’t stop feeling like crap if you don’t do something about it.” They tug your arm, forcing your feet to move. 

“Maybe I want to feel like crap. Maybe I deserve to feel like crap.”

“Quit wallowing in self-pity, girl. It doesn’t suit you.” They take you up the stairs of the porch and arrive at the entrance, where they wrap their hand around the doorknob, ready to expose you to the chaos on the other side. 

“Hange—”

“Respectfully, Captain, shut the hell up.”

“I’m supposed to be reflecting on my actions.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to reflect once you wake up in better spirits tomorrow.” 

Warm light pours over your face as Hange yanks the door open, and like a tank releasing compressed gas, the noise from within fires out into the open. Now it's undiluted, coming to you with its full blast. You're in peak hours of the night, so it’s to be expected. 

The inside looks nice, built upon a theme of reddish-brown wood that glows beneath the yellow light of the oil lamps on the walls. Every table is occupied, including the stools at the back. The bartender on the other side moves between heads to serve them their orders of drinks.

Traffic is high, but it hasn’t gotten to a point where it’s messy. Customers stay seated at their respective tables, having a good time with the company that they brought. 

Hange's voice is barely discernible while they lead the way through the crowded space, taking you to a booth against the window, where your colleagues reside. 

The burdens of their duty seem to have left them with the uniform they shed, now in casual clothing and each with a mug on their side. The smiles on their faces are absent of weight, and their laughs are equally stark against the mix of voices from the crowd. 

They welcome you both by scooting over to make some space, mugs for each of you left untouched. 

As opposed to your fears throughout the week, their treatment towards you isn't much different from the usual, except for the fact that you're outside of your common work environment. 

Your new reality has been hard on you. That is, accepting that you're part of the leadership of the scouts, a role model of sorts with several lives under your command, yet stuck for the rest of your career with a list of embarrassing fucks-up under your belt that could threaten the respect you’re meant to receive. 

It’s the root of your anxiety, only worsened by your level of pride. A nagging thought in your head repeats over and over again that every scout judges you in silence even if on the outside they show the complete opposite, and it's impossible to look anyone in the eye with these worries in mind. 

Your honor as a soldier is below surface level. When Erwin stripped you of the privileges that came with your title, your work space and quarters were also taken. 

Now, with a salary that's been cut by two thirds, you're paying for lodgings elsewhere because heading back to the barracks as captain of the scouts to sleep among the soldiers you used to lead, and after years of having left that place no less, would have been the cherry on top of your cake of humiliation. 

You get where the commander is coming from, since it would only look bad if the legion found you walking around the halls without any repercussions for your actions, knowing several soldiers have gotten in far worse trouble than you for insubordination, but it doesn't make dealing with this shame any easier. You don't know how you'll get anyone to respect you after this fact. Yet again, you would have to start over and hope for the best. 

A small part of you may have been okay with being fired. At least you think so. 

It's stupid—you know. It's your whole livelihood, the one path that got you out of the streets and gave you purpose. You just don't care anymore, but hell, you really wish you did. 

The change of scenery hasn't helped in the least. You're still overthinking as much as you were by yourself. 

Someone says your name. 

You flinch, recognizing that voice, and lift your head from your palm to meet the stare of the newcomer standing beside you.

Your eyes could have gotten stuck inside your head with how hard to roll them to the back. “For fuck's sake,” you mutter, turning your head away. 

“Charming girl as usual.”

“What are you doing here, Ludwig?” You keep yourself focused on your untouched mug instead. “I thought you were stationed inside wall Sina.”

“Got demoted back to city guard in wall Rose after the disappearance of some important files from my office.” He plants the palm of his hand on the table and leans closer. “But you wouldn't happen to know anything about that little mishap, would you?” 

You stay unfazed despite the underlayer of accusation in his tone. “Didn't even remember you existed until today.”

“Hm… by the way, where's your little mutt?” He challenges your composure from a different direction. 

“Elsewhere.”

“I saw him kissing up to your new commander at the parliament house.” He leans back to his full height and turns away from your table, about to leave. “Careful, or he might fuck around with him too.”

The legs of your chair screech when you jump to your feet, nearly kicking the whole table off with all the drinks on top. If you had a knife in your pocket, you would have pulled it out. 

“Girl, girl!” Hange rises from the seat opposite to yours and holds you down from the arm, letting the prey walk away unharmed. “Calm down. He's doing this to get a reaction from you.”

“He wants a reaction? I'll give him a fucking reaction.” You keep your eyes locked on your target as he sits on a table across the room with his comrades. 

“You don't want to make a scene. Come on, girl. Just take a seat and drink a bit.”

“I'll have a celebratory glass at his goddamn funeral.” You tug against the restraint that is their grip, unable to free yourself. 

Hange steps over to your side of the table and lowers their voice to keep the privacy between you both. “It's not worth it. Don't waste your energy, girl. It'd be the same as admitting defeat.”

You continue to glare at him, because if you can't appease the urge of smashing a bottle over his head, at least you can pretend you're shooting lasers from your eyes. 

With a heavy breath, you plop down your seat, deflated like a balloon that has run out of air. 

The sight of your mug calls to you, singing a tempting offer. You slip your fingers through the handle and toss your head back to guzzle down half its contents. 

To hell with everything. 

You slam the mug back on the table, adapting to the bitter taste. It's not the best brand of alcohol, and the mouthful of liquid burns your throat, but you swallow everything and go for another swig. 

You're losing your last reserves of sanity, the sole detonator being your unfortunate encounter with the one fuckface you somehow stumble upon at the most inopportune of moments. At least now you know he got demoted because of your intervention. It'll be your secret revenge for everything he has put you through. 

The thought that you have repeated past mistakes comes to you all of a sudden, and like a punch to the gut, it sets in. 

You had a reputation among your comrades throughout your time at the Cadet Corps. You got involved with Ludwig and messed that up past the point of no return, so much so you joined the scouts with the sole intention of starting over, disregarding the dangers of your choices and how it would affect your life. 

It all worked out in the end, and you were able to make a living out of it. 

Then you pushed your luck and repeated the cycle. It's almost funny and ironic in a cruel sense. You told yourself you had matured, that you knew what you were doing, not expecting that you would get yourself stuck in an even bigger mess. 

However, comparing this relationship with your past one would be the same as trying to find similarities between night and day. Levi was different. He made you feel so loved and desired. Whenever his eyes fixed themselves on the sight of you, you felt like you were the only one in this world. 

You miss him. 

“Ugh.” Another swig brings more alcohol down your throat. 

You miss him. You want him. He has ruined you for everyone else. There's no way you could ever settle with less than him. A lot of fish swim in the river, but no one is like Levi. 

Your week has been hell without him. You hate that you have to go around pretending you don't know him when in reality all you want is to be hugged and consoled, to be told you're not the trash of a soldier you've convinced yourself you are. 

We’re dependent on each other, he had said, and you'll be the first to admit you are. Is that really so wrong? To have a support system holding you together as you navigate this life and the job you have practically sold your soul to? Is it so wrong to love and be loved? 

He's doing a good job at pretending he's over it, and it hurts so much that you’re convinced getting stabbed in the heart would be easier. 

“—so the titan blinked with his huge doe-eyes at me…” Hange slurs, barely able to produce words with the giggles woven in between. 

Gelgar scrunches his face, skin tinted with a light shade of pink. “Who the hell dreams of titans like that?” 

“That's gross.”

“Section Commander,” Moblit sighs, “I think that's enough drinking for now.”

The ruckus surrounding you is becoming overwhelming. You move your head to look around the bar, realizing soon after that you acted too fast for your slurry brain to handle and now the room is spinning. 

You miss Levi. 

How many glasses did you chug down?

Damn, you miss Levi. 

The light is too strong for your eyes. Noise is a bit muffled now, like an unfiltered white sound. It's dizzying at best. 

You really miss him. 

That's enough drinking for today, and you need a splash of water. 

“I'll be right back,” you murmur, rising from the chair with a firm grip on the edge of the table. 

“Bring another bottle, Cap'n.” Gelgar swings the empty one in the air to summon your attention. 

“Fine,” you drawl while working your way out of the table with the most caution you can manage, supporting yourself on what remains of your stability. 

Moving your feet compares to walking over spilled honey. You’re stuck with the heavy drag of your step, the commands of your brain lost under a buzz, unable to guide any part of your body. 

You lack the independence and control you need in order to feel comfortable with yourself, and it's making you panic inside. Especially since you're in a public space, worming between the arms and backs of strangers in the hopes of getting to your destination without falling on your face. 

What was your destination? You think Gelgar said something about drinks. Or was it Hange? Not that it matters. 

You arrive at the back of the bar and slump your arms over the counter, craving a break from the strenuous job that is standing on your own two feet. “Another bottle,” you tell the bartender, then poke the air with a finger, showing him the table you came from. “Same thing we've been hav—”

Your blood drops, paving the way for a chill that races up your back. 

You're either drunk to the point of delusion or Levi is talking to Hange. 

God, the man is as gorgeous as the last time you saw him. He’s wearing a thin, long-sleeve shirt of light blue color, and like most of the clothes he owns, it adheres to the slim shape of his body, showing that small but strong frame he hides underneath, a beautiful body only you've had the honor of seeing. 

He's not too pleased with Hange for whatever reason, though that's nothing new, and your friend isn’t taking his scowl to heart either way. 

He flicks his eyes up and looks around the scene. 

Alarm bells blare in your head, and you immediately spin around to face the back wall, though the vertigo that follows makes you regret such an abrupt reaction. 

“Ugh.” 

You hate your life. 

It's the alcohol talking. 

What were you doing here again? 

You wish Levi was here. 

Or was he? 

You shouldn't turn around to check. It's already embarrassing that you let yourself get to this point in the first place. 

You hate your life. 

What if he comes up to you first? You know he won't, he can't, but… supposing he does —wistful thinking doing the talk— what would you do? 

You would nod at him like the professional you are, greet him with his respective rank and continue doing what you came here to do, which was… something important, surely. You wouldn't give Levi the courtesy of showing him that you miss him. 

“Hey.”

You won't do anything. 

“About what happened…”

You won't even look at him. 

“... let's talk about it.”

A sigh leaves you.

It’s pointless effort in the end. You’re wrecked beyond repair and it has nothing to do with the alcohol. Maybe you’re his more than he was ever yours.

Him saying your name makes you surrender in a heartbeat. 

You turn around and let him catch you in his arms, lips falling on his in a desperate kiss. 

-

You groan, blinking awake to the daylight stabbing your eyes. It sneaks into the room through the slim gap between the curtains, and you turn the other way to avoid it. 

Your body feels heavy, sunken into the warm and safe embrace of the mattress, but your parched throat makes it difficult to fall asleep again. You end up reaching for the glass of water on your bedside table.

It's not the worst hangover you've been through. The fog in your brain is gone without leaving any residues of a headache behind and you don’t feel like a carriage has run over you either. You’re thankful you didn’t take it to the point of getting utterly wasted. 

The soft ticks of the clock take your attention to the wall, and upon seeing the time, your soul almost leaves your body a second time. 

You should be arriving at work by now, and it doesn't help that the trip from this lodging house to HQ requires extra time you don't have. 

What a great start to your day. 

You throw the covers off and run around the mess that is your room to retrieve clothes from the bags you've yet to unpack. You’ve sobered up, but the rush you're forcing on your body right after waking up from a late night isn't helping you look any better. 

You discard your old shirt and slip into a clean button up. 

Looking up at your reflection in the mirror, you freeze. Your hands stop working on the buttons and instead move up to grab both ends and spread them apart, exposing the bruises that are scattered across the expanse of your collarbone and chest. They vary between blotches of red, purple and dark maroon, woven between each other to the point of looking like giant stains on your skin, rivaled by the open-mouthed bite marks and scratches inflicted upon the same areas. 

Your jaw drops. It looks as though you were mauled by a rabid dog. 

In a moment of desperation, you sort through your memories in search of answers, eventually landing on the image of Levi. 

You kissed him last night, so what the hell did it lead to? You can't remember anything else. 

“Goddamn it,” you hiss. “We fucked it up again.”

Even so, you can't help but raise a brow as you study your chest. Marks are like imprints exclusive to the person who puts them, and when you look at the work that you have, they don't remind you of Levi. 

Another glance at the clock makes you snap back into action. You have to go. You're walking on eggshells as it is and you can't risk being late. Still with several confused thoughts in your mind, you button up your shirt and finish dressing up. 

Your jacket hangs on a chair. When you grab it, ready to run for the bathroom, a note slips out and lands by your feet. 

Brought you home. Don't worry. 

-Hange.  

You hadn't even thought about the fact you could have spent a whole night with Levi and not remember any of it, but you're glad you found the note before any worries could set in. 

You freshen up and get rid of the stink of alcohol to the best of your abilities. After that, it's a race against time to make it to headquarters before roll call. 

Racing to work is quite the workout considering your physical prowess has been hindered by the difficult night you put it through, but you make it in the end, not that being there is well worth your time. 

You’re rows apart from Levi during roll call, yet it feels like he’s standing next to you, burning through the back of your skull with a heated glare. You haven’t had the guts to turn around and check whether you’re imagining it or not, trusting the instinct that tells you it wouldn’t be a good idea to confront him.

Something definitely happened last night. 

You speed-walk straight to your duties the second Erwin dismisses his troops. Part of your sanction is offering your services to the legion in any way that's required, even when such requests go beneath your title. 

Today, your job needs you on the third floor of the main building to clean and organize the dusty storage room barely anyone touches. 

At least it'll be easier to hide from Levi this way. 

The space is loaded with unused furniture—old shelves, desks, broken chairs and an old couch stationed against the wall, blanketed under a sheet you are sure would be white without the dust on top. There are books, oil lamps, stacks of paper, and about every single item that could be found in the environment you work in. If you were to ever meet a hoarder, you imagine this would be the state you’d find their house in.

You have your work cut out for you, but it should keep your mind distracted and provide you with some alone time to sort out your thoughts.

Your streak of bad decisions keeps worsening by the minute and you don't know what to do to break it. It won't be long before you run out of chances to redeem yourself. You would have an easier time figuring it out if you knew what you wanted in the first place.

The door bursts open, hitting the wall with a roaring sound. 

“You’re fucking twisted.” From his place at the entrance, Levi finds you clinging to your broom like it could offer you protection, still shaken from the explosion of noise that disrupted your train of thought. 

A looming aura follows him as he steps inside and throws the door behind him, sealing the den he has now claimed as his property. The look he’s giving you is feral, absent of the control he tends to show even in his anger, and his eyes feel like a couple of glimmering knives pinning you right where you stand.

You swallow, keeping your insecurities hidden. “Levi.” Spoken with an even tone, it’s your best attempt at a formal greeting.

“And avoiding me to boot,” he snaps back, shooting every sentence like a snake about to pounce. “You’ve got some damn nerve.”

You set the broom aside. “We can’t be seen together. Erwin will—”

“Fuck all,” comes like a hiss slithered through his teeth. “I deserve an explanation.” 

An explanation for last night? Why was he at the bar in the first place? And why did he come up to you? You didn’t force him to do anything. “There’s nothing to explain. I was drunk, confused. Late hour, whatever.” You turn away, finding it hard to continue receiving the whole blast of his anger. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’d never heard you spout such bullshit with your mouth.” 

Your shoulders slump forward, eyes rolling towards the ceiling like you’ll find the answers to your questions there. “Levi, there won’t be an us anymore. I don’t know why you’re bitching—”

“Bitching about it?”

Nothing you say calms him. As things stand, it seems even breathing provokes him. You’re fanning his flames simply by existing. 

“Yeah, I’ll bitch a fit about this.” He walks up to you, and with a grip on your wrist, he forces you to look at him. “And you’re going to fucking listen.”

You tug your arm, but his hold on you persists. “The hell is wrong with you, Levi?”

His jaw shifts, muscles tight from the clench of his teeth. He jerks you a step closer like an angry kid demanding attention. “Stop looking at me like you’re confused, damn it.”

But you are.  

“I was drunk.” You don’t know what else to say. Your memory is hazy. 

“No, don’t do that. Damn you. Damn you.” It isn’t the first time you’ve seen him agitated, but you've never witnessed an extent the likes of today. He’s in a state of despair, sunken deep into rage and torment. “You don’t get to act like you don’t remember fucking around with that scumbag in my face.” 

“Scumbag—?” His words lift the fog that has been clouding your memory, clearing away the fantasy and replacing it with the real events from last night. 

Your eyes open wide. 

You were yearning for Levi, but the person that filled that void was someone else. 

No fucking way.

“Ludwig?” you ask, almost with a squeak. 

His hold on your wrist tightens. “Don’t say his name.”

A pit forms in your stomach, anger, regret and disgust balling up into a heavy mass that hits rock bottom, making you feel nauseous. You're in disbelief, so stunned that nothing gets a chance to reflect on the outside. 

The severity of your bruises makes sense now. Levi would never sink his teeth like he were trying to bite into meat. Ludwig used to do that. 

So your longing, your feelings, the fervent passion in your heart… you gave that private part of you away to Ludwig instead of the person it belongs to. 

You feel disgusting, used, incredibly stupid.

And Levi is convinced you did it to hurt him. 

Looking at him, your first idea is to clarify your actions, but something stops you—a feeling so childish and bitter you may as well be proving Levi right about his skepticism towards you. 

“Levi,” your voice grows cold, “stay out of my damn business.” 

His eyes widen, brows tugging into them, forming an expression on the verge of blowing up. “Excuse me?”

It’s senseless, evil, too selfish. Levi doesn’t deserve this kind of disrespect, and you don’t deserve the mockery you’re making of yourself. You know it’s wrong, but your mouth only keeps moving.

“We’re not exclusive. It’s over. Done. You can’t dictate who I fuck around with.” 

In a way, you’re right. However, you’re lying to yourself and to him, tearing the relationship apart to a point beyond repair. You want to convince yourself it’s the right call, that you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart for both him and you, if only to feel a little less guilty about the pain flashing in Levi’s glare. 

Who are you kidding? You’re prideful to a fault above all else. It was a dumb mistake, one you don’t want to reveal to the same man that left you because of the series of equally dumb mistakes you were making.  

“You’re joking.” He releases your wrist with a shove that sends you a couple of steps back. “You hate that piece of shit. Why would you try anything with him if not to fucking spite me?”

“Not everything revolves around you, Levi.”

“I know for a fact this does.”

You turn away from him, but Levi grabs your shoulder and spins you back. “You’re not running away, you coward.”

“Levi, enough.” Though you don’t raise your tone, your way of addressing him sounds condescending. You wipe your face clean of emotions, impersonating the kind of stone-cold expression Levi has shown to many before. Everyone else except you. 

Around you, and from the very beginning, Levi has always let himself feel, and it evidently hurts him when you try to shut him out. 

He can’t take it. His hands close like heavy shackles around your biceps, and he walks, forcing your step until your back hits the wall. He breathes his desperation over your lips, honed stare burning through you. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t wish that fucker was me.”

“You’re stepping over the line, Levi.”

“Kick me off then.”

“No, you will back off.”

“Kick me off.” His insistence is frustrating. 

Your hand shoots up with a mind of its own, gathering the end of his cravat into a fist. “You’re going to do as I tell you and back the fuck off.”

He catches your wrist in an equally tight grip. “I don’t take orders from vixens.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor if you’d been less careful. “Come again?” 

“You’re a vixen.” And he makes sure every word gets delivered to you with its embedded knife. 

Your other hand rushes with the intention of slapping him on the cheek, but Levi catches that wrist as well and stops it. 

Your composure is falling apart at his feet. “You’re fucking dead.”

“You can’t do shit,” he huffs, mocking you in a way you’ve never experienced from him before. “Hell, the only reason you’ve ever had control is because I allowed it.”

Your arms shake from the anger and frustration welling up in you. “You’re so—”

He cuts the flow of that sentence by wedging a knee between your thighs. Now you’re sandwiched between him and the wall with no limbs at your disposal, unable to move, much less speak because of the shock.

“You can’t do anything. I’ve taken that privilege away,” he says, voice low and dangerous. Your wrists meet in the same grip before they’re slammed above your head. “You’re powerless.” His other hand comes around your throat, fingertips pressing into bristled skin. “We're not playing your game anymore.”

Your brain stops producing thoughts, lost behind the sensory overload Levi has caused with this new and unexpected approach. He’s everywhere, invading your space, breathing on you and claiming every inch of your skin like it's his property. The familiar smell of tea and clean linen sheets accompanies him, and you can only hope you don’t reek of yesterday’s alcohol. 

Your lungs aren’t cooperating the way they should, and swallowing mouthfuls of air is hard enough as it is with his hand around your throat. Your stomach can barely swell with the air that makes it in because of how hard he’s pressed up against you. 

Your tongue is heavy and tied into knots in your mouth. You've forgotten how to speak. 

Between your thighs, his knee shifts in search of a better position, and you suck for air like he has punched it out of you.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” The amusement on his face is sardonic in nature, upturned mouth teasing you in the same manner. “Sick fuck.”

You know you’ve said those lines before. How sly. 

“P-piece of shit…” Lidded eyes do their best to glare, helpless despite their effort. 

“Shut up,” is a spiteful breath on your lips before he slots against them in one frantic mess of a kiss, it being loaded with emotions neither of you have the capacity to express out loud. 

Anger is the most prevalent of all. You can almost taste it on his tongue with the way it pushes against yours, a wordless protest on its own that demands answers and his rightful claim over you. It burns and stings at the same time, his teeth just as merciless on your lips. 

It's also filled with urgency, like you both know this might be the last opportunity you'll ever get. You can hardly take a breath between the small gaps in which your lips come apart before they fuse again. You're heaving down each other’s throat, the heavy smack of your lips melding with how much you’re both panting. What he can’t expel into your mouth becomes a tighter squeeze on your wrists and neck, but you lack half a brain to give a damn. 

The most familiar emotion is fervor, which lingers within the feelings that keep you bound to the other. It doesn't feel entirely right. The driving force behind it is twisted and sullied, but you cling to it all the same, craving even a small taste of the ecstasy that made your connection with him so special. You’ll take any scraps you can get. The addict in you is finally breathing again.

Your lips feel raw and swollen when he pulls back to take your hands down. With a tight grip on them, he pries you off the wall and commands the way. 

You're malleable to his will, letting him guide your step through the crowded room. He keeps himself close, breaths warm and heavy on your face, blowing from the scowl that exists at your expense. 

“I'll make you forget that fucker,” he growls. “You'll forget he ever touched you.”

Who? You're lost within the depth of his eyes, unable to process anything that isn't his name. 

“Look at you.” It's demeaning, yet secretly endeared upon the sight of you. “Already so dumb and speechless. You're into this degeneracy.” 

He tugs the white sheet off, dust rising into the air, and with one shove, you're thrown into the couch like a worn rag doll. 

Levi towers over you from where he stands, a predator looking down on his prey. “So perverse.” He follows you, jamming a knee between your thighs and seizing your throat with his hand. The other one presses down on the couch beside your head, the cushion sinking under his weight. 

Your fingers reach out for him, craving him, but he slaps the touch off before you can so much as graze a strand of hair. 

He clicks his tongue at you several times to reproach the attempt. “I don't want your hands on me.” 

Levi buries his knee further into your crotch, resulting in a rare kind of pleasure that borders on painful with how sturdy the muscles around his thigh are. 

You nearly choke on a sharp intake of air. Then Levi comes down and ravages you again. 

He's uncharacteristically rough, detached in a way that makes his touch feel alien. Regardless, you know you can let yourself be used; you know you can give into his judgment and surrender all of you with the certainty that he'll keep your pieces together through it all, your safety guaranteed.  

You're sure he's feeling your wet folds on his knee despite the layers of fabric in between. You're dripping, starving like a whore and eager to take anything. 

There's so much heat. His angry rambling carries on through teasing teeth and the rush of lips, tongues entangled in a feverish tug of war inside your mouth. You're struggling to breathe through it. Any bit of air you recover gets sucked back out of you.

The urge to touch him is inevitable, and it makes your hands move. You manage to cling to the sides of his shirt for only a second before Levi abandons your throat and catches both wrists in his grip.  

Secretly, you wish he hadn't let go. 

He throws them above your head, this time pinning them to the backrest of the couch, while his other hand slinks down, grabs one of your legs from the knee and bends it up your side. He then does the same to your other one, spreading your thighs open on the couch so he has enough room to make himself comfortable between them. 

While his mouth continues to work you apart, he starts with an eager touch on your shoulder, then goes down your collarbone and along a breast, arriving at your ribcage and going over your side, where his hand bends into the subtle arch of your back. There, he pushes up, making your chest bulge towards the ceiling with the stretch he forces from your spine. 

He's taking advantage of your liquid figure and contorting it to its limit, wrapping himself around you in the process, bending but never breaking you. It's his own display of power if anything, to prove that he, too, can turn you into his mannequin and be the master puppeteer. 

You suck an urgent breath into your lungs as he retreats to the corner of your mouth, where he paves a new course to skim down your neck. You throw your head back and moan through your teeth. 

“You are going to be louder.” It's not a suggestion. He's informing you how it will go. 

“We're right above the offices—” 

“I don't care.” He grabs a bit of skin between his teeth and nibbles where you're most sensitive to support his claim. 

You make a sound as if you were being strangled. 

“Louder.” He latches on to a new spot in your throat and coaxes a stronger moan out. 

Levi is the only one with a clear map of your body, the only one who can locate the precise spots that drive you insane. He's the only one who earned the right, and you made a mockery of that honor with last night’s mistake. 

His kissing is mindless, driven by bitter and possessive feelings. His hold on your wrist remains tight, a shackle keeping you bound to the couch. His other hand is in a desperate quest to reclaim what you gave to another, desperate to override that intrusive mark with his touch. 

He moves to tainted grounds, skin that has been dirtied with blotches of bruises. He grabs the front of your shirt and forces it apart, the first three buttons flying off across the room. You don't have the state of mind to care. 

Levi pulls back to study the damage on your body, and the sight leaves him paralyzed for a moment that seems to stretch for eternity. You glance down at the bite marks on your breasts, each of them bordering on strong shades of maroon. So bad are the bruises they don't even appear derived from pleasure. It looks like an assault on your body. You don't know what's beneath the bra, and it seems Levi has no interest in finding out. 

The rage dissipates, leaving a broken and confused man in front of you, still convinced that your betrayal was to torture him. 

“Levi…”

“Shut up.” He screws his eyes shut, sounding emotionally exhausted when he repeats it. “Just shut up.”

“I didn't…” 

More anger layers his glassy eyes when he opens them again. He grabs your waist and flips you around with abrupt hands, pressing your chest flush on the backrest. Your arms dangle beside your face, knees slotted on the edge of the cushion. 

“He doesn't even know how to make them look good on you,” he sneers, knees sinking beside your thighs from the outer side. “If you're going to fool around, at least be smart about it.” He lays himself down on your back and whispers against your ear, “Fucking dumbass.”

You huff a low sound at him, trying to protect your pride despite your broken voice. “As if you have the experience to talk shit.” 

“I have common sense. Not sure where you keep yours.”

“You don't know enough to give an opinion.”

“Oh, I know enough.” He delves into your nape and plants his lips there. “I know the right way of putting bruises on you. And I know how to make them feel good.” He follows those words with light sucking, tugging a gasp out from your throat. “I know when to be rough.” He suckles a little harder, then pulls back to lave the skin with his tongue. “And when to be gentle.”

Your lidded gaze strays forward, focused on nothing but the feeling of his lips on your skin. The firm outline between his thighs presses into your lower back, his whole weight crushing you to the couch and bending you to its shape. 

“You don't want to let them keep at it with just teeth from start to end,” he continues, highlighting his points with wondrous demonstration. “A proper mark takes time.” He clamps down on your skin with a bit of roughness, coaxing something from you that sounds like a mix between a whine and a moan. “It's built with patience and teasing.” He lets go to wedge his tongue on the forming bruise. “Your pleasure is the priority here.”

His throaty voice vibrates through you, engraving his lessons onto every inch of your body. You're gripping the couch like it'll swallow you if you're not prepared, reduced to the likes of wanton mush beneath him. 

“That is how it's done.” Levi pulls back to admire his work. Without wasting time, he grabs the neck of your shirt and eases it down, hauling your arm back so the fabric can slide over your shoulder. Unsullied skin gets exposed. Levi picks a spot between your shoulder blades and demonstrates his lesson again. 

You moan out his name. 

“Doesn't hurt, right?” 

Delirious, you shake your head. 

“Only feels good, doesn't it?” 

It feels heavenly. You nod to agree, burying your face on the backrest to expel another sound there. 

“Speak up,” he chastises. “Tell me how good it feels.” 

“So good…” 

“Can't even compare.” He bites you over the protruded bone of your shoulder blade, toeing the line between pain and pleasure. 

“C-can't,” you agree, eyes squeezed shut. “Can't compare.”

“I know best.”

“You know best.”

Levi cups a breast in his palm, and from there, he caresses down your torso. “I know your body.” 

“You know my body.”

He stops when he reaches the waistband of your pants. “I know how to please you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. Your thighs are shaking with anticipation.

He works the button apart and tugs the zipper down. “How to make you scream.”

“God, yes.”

“The right way to fuck you.”

“Please.”

“Only I,” he steps back to yank down your pants with your underwear, “can make you come.”

You get shoved into the couch, stance wobbly as Levi pulls your pants down to your calves. His name is a broken whimper on your lips. 

When you hear his zipper behind you, your last reserves of sanity fall to shambles. Your brain disregards years of evolution and ceases to think about anything that isn't the primal urge to get stuffed with his cock. Everything pulses, all of you needs. You feel so fucking empty and deprived.  

Levi reads it in your body language. “Cute.” He says it in a way that taunts you. “You really have no fucking shame.”

“You invited yourself here. You started this.” You can't even manage enough spite in your voice. 

“And now I'm going to finish it.”

He spreads your ass and rams inside you with one, abrupt push, stretching sensitive tissue that hasn't been given the time to ease up.

You cry out with the breath that escapes you. 

“And you can bet I'll finish you right,” he rasps in your ear. 

You're sure you almost come apart right then. 

He feels it around his dick, your fluttering walls squeezing him. “Not yet,” he warns. 

A broken attempt at saying his name slithers out like a whine. It's all you can manage. Nothing else fills your head. 

In and out he goes. Levi starts fucking you from the get-go like he's already trying to finish it. He doesn't give you much, doesn't tease or explore what feels best. He gyrates back and forth with the same intensity, the same tempo; with such raw intention it's nothing if not animal-like fucking. 

You have to bite your lip so it’s easier to keep your voice down.

“No.” Levi grabs your neck from the front and pulls your head up. “You are going to scream.”

He's moving so fast you barely get the chance to feel stuffed between the continuous in and out of his dick. His hand on your throat is tight. The one holding your waist feels like it's burning through your shirt and making direct contact with your skin. 

“God,” you moan. 

“Not loud enough,” he growls with little patience. His palm presses on your lower back, forcing it into an arch that buries him into a different spot the next time he slams in. 

Past the fog in your head, the rough sounds of skin slapping skin and the squelch between your legs, you can make out your own voice, and it's nothing you have heard from yourself before. 

“Louder,” he insists. 

You're losing your goddamn mind. He keeps hitting into the depths of you, and you're a helpless whore bent beneath him. “Please…”

“Louder.” His grip on your throat forces your head all the way back. 

Your eyes roll in the same direction, mouth slacking with the push of gravity. 

He continues to mouth orders against the shell of your ear. “Be louder. Let the entire building know who's fucking you good. Let Ludwig hear it all the way to his quarters in wall Sina. Let everyone know you're mine.”

“Was,” you croak. 

“You say that, yet you moan like you still are.”

His next thrust shoves your body over the backrest. Your knees no longer rest on the edge of the couch, now buried deep into the cushion as Levi continues to push into your spine. He grabs one of your arms and stretches it behind you to arch you more. 

“L-Levi— ah.”

He bites your earlobe. 

“Please.”

He goes even harder. 

“Fuck, I… I-I'm dying.”

“You're mine.” He worms two fingers between your thighs and presses down on your clit. “Say it now.”

Your lungs burn, and your throat unclogs. “Yours!” you cry out into the ceiling between broken sobs and heavy panting, the sound distorted because of the hold he keeps on your neck.

“Ah… yes.” It brims with his first sign of approval. “Yes. That's my fucking girl.”

A pathetic gasp is all your response can amount to. 

Your legs give out, knees numb from supporting your weight with him on top. You end up spread like a frog, approaching the extent of your flexibility as he continues to fuck you into the couch, no holds barred. Only your bunched up pants keep your legs from completely separating over the cushion. 

You come around his dick, crying, shaking and heaving with an intensity that matches the way he’s handling you. Your bliss lasts only for a short moment before it morphs into overstimulation. 

Levi doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. His hips keep gyrating into that tight heat, stretching the time to the point you can no longer tell if you’re still orgasming. 

“Levi, Levi, Levi!” rushes out with an urgency that could make anyone think he’s killing you. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Can’t you tell? I’m trying to cum.” He’s desensitized to your pleas, and you’ve never felt so helpless. Everything feels used, worn down, overexposed. Your body is a ghost of what it used to be. You scream and cry for a chance, reaching out to the tender man that would never go against his goddess, but that Levi isn’t here right now. You’re at the mercy of this new version that won’t settle for less  than his own wishes. 

This is a taste of what he can do when he allows himself a bit more of his strength, and it goes to show how much he holds himself back on a day to day basis. It also shows how deep in his anger he is. Levi could break you like a toothpick if he so desired… and your twisted mind thinks that’s a worthy thought to cum to again. 

You start seeing sparks in your vision before your surroundings flash with white. A second orgasm pulls you taut around him on the way to full release. You know you’re making strangled noises, but your liquid brain doesn’t register them. 

It hurts. His dick is too hard, too thick, too warm; it fucking burns like fire between your legs, yet all you can do despite the pain is to lie still and be the good girl he wants you to be. 

It’s a messed up kind of pleasure, but it’s pleasure all the same, and like a worthy masochist, you eat it up amidst sobs. 

A tight breath rips from him, beautiful moans complimenting it. He’s twitching inside you, about to succumb to his orgasm.

“In… side,” you breathe, struggling to speak through the high he won’t let you come down from. “Inside, Levi. Inside.” 

His breathing turns manic. He lets go of your throat to hold on to the couch, releasing his full strength upon it.  

“Inside me…” you repeat.

He said he would finish it, and you want him to do it all the way through. You want him to fuck his frustrations out on you and leave everything inside. It’s the only way you can hold him, the only way you have left of being there for him. 

You want the connection. You want to savor him before it all comes to its definite end. 

“Don’t leave,” you plead. “Don’t fucking leave.” You’re so dumb you don’t even understand the sense in which you mean it, but you know it’s your heart speaking. 

He rides his orgasm without missing a beat and fucks his cum into you, pouring out moans so broken you hear traces of the delicate man you’ve brought out countless of times before. They’re the kind of sounds you love the most, and the kind that you’ll miss. 

He doesn’t let himself be spent above you. Right as it’s done, he pulls out and retreats, leaving your carcass of a body limp on the couch as you struggle through the shivers of an orgasm on its way to finally dissipating. 

His cum drips between your thighs, the only proof you have that he was ever in you. He left so quickly you're starting to wonder if you imagined everything. 

When you tilt your head to the side, Levi has already fixed himself. He's standing the other way, refusing to look at you in your most vulnerable state. Maybe he means to be respectful, but you can't pretend it doesn't destroy you inside. 

You push yourself back to stand on your feet, doing your best to stay balanced as you figure out how to use your legs of jelly. You fix your pants and button them up. As for your shirt, it’s beyond helping. You didn’t stop to think about the fact you’ll have to walk out of here at some point. 

“I’ll bring you something to cover up.” He sounds remorseful, still with his back turned to you. “... sorry.” 

You pull the lapels of your jacket over your chest. “This can’t happen again.”

He turns his head, showing only his side profile to you and the hurt across his features. “You were waiting to have one last fuck before you broke the news to me?” His anger returns just as suddenly. You’ve never seen him go through so many emotions in one sitting. 

“That’s not—” You catch yourself before you raise your tone at him. With a deep and quiet breath, you try again. “We got caught up in the mood, but I would never use you. This whole situation isn’t easy for me either, Levi.”

“Oh, really? I think you’ve been doing great on your own. Fucking fantastic actually.”

You keep your eyes on him, trying to find the words to say to him. “Levi, what’s even the point of coming here to make a fuss? What are you hoping to achieve? Nothing is going to happen between us—”

“I know nothing is going to happen,” he snaps, turning around to properly face you from where he stands. “And I’m not an idiot. I know nothing can ever happen either.”

“So why—?”

“Why?” He speaks with an uneven tone, spilling every bit of thought he has in his heart through frantic eyes. “I should be asking you that. Why say so many heavenly things to me? Why make me open up? Why make me feel so special if you were just going to discard me like that? If you felt anything for me at all, why did you make me feel like garbage?”

You’re left stunned, mouth agape as you stare at him. “Levi, I… I didn’t—I didn’t discard you.”

“We didn’t split because our feelings were gone. We were forced to, so I figured everything we said and felt was real. I told you you were the only one for me. What if you found me with someone else within days of breaking up? Technically, I have the right to do whatever the hell I want, but I wouldn’t expect you to trust the relationship we had. I wouldn’t expect you to believe I ever felt anything real for you if I could just swap you in the blink of an eye. That’s how I feel. I feel lied to. I feel used and so fucking stupid for thinking I was special.” His eyes open wide, adding to his tortured expression, as if he has been speaking on autopilot and is only now realizing he said too much. 

Your chest feels heavy, overcome with regret. You walked all over his heart, and he’s showing you the pieces you left behind on the floor. For all the talk you gave about protecting him, you were the first to hurt him where he’s most defenseless. If you could take it all back, you would. You would move heaven and earth to make sure he doesn’t feel like this because of you. 

His next sigh shows how exhausted he is. He glances away, not even bothering to protect himself behind his usual frown. “Why would you do that to me?”

It’s the final nail in the coffin. 

“You are special!” Your voice breaks, pitch sliding all over your range without any control. You let your emotions show unfiltered on your face, exposing everything to him even if he won’t look at you. “You became so much, Levi. You’re in my head all the damn time and you drive me fucking insane. I could tell you the exact number of lashes you have. The exact number of scars on your body and where each of them are. I could go on and on about your eyes and your stupid fucking face. I could rant endlessly about your heart and your soul, your strengths and weaknesses and everything in between. I love you, okay?”

He’s watching you now. You feel like a deer in the headlights, but you make it your duty to let everything out. 

“You could have asked me to quit and I would have. As fucking stupid as that is, I would have given it all up just to stay with you. You think I care about status? My title? My honor? Those stupid medals. Hell, I don’t give a damn about humanity. I would have quit, Levi. That’s the level of special you are.

“You think I would look at anyone else after that? Men could go extinct and I wouldn’t even notice if I had you with me. I don’t give two shits about Ludwig. I never wanted to provoke you or hurt you or make you feel jealous and I’m so fucking sorry it happened that way. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I got so drunk I thought you would approach me and kiss me and take me right there when in reality I was just seeing your face on someone else. I’m sorry I keep fucking things up. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know anything. I never knew anything. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry about my ego. I’m sorry I exploited you—”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry I used you and pressured you and took advantage of you and abused—”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him. You were so caught up in your speech you didn't notice the moment he walked over. “Stop. What the fuck are you even talking about? Now you’re just spouting shit.” 

He's so close, yet you feel an entire crater between you. His eyes communicate, but they're not transparent. You've lost that privilege. 

“I was in a position of power over you, Levi. I was your captain and you… you were forced into the scouts. It was either your unconditional service or a trip to the gallows for your crimes. And you were grieving your friends. You were going through changes and figuring things out. Trying to adapt. I used you—”

His hold on you tightens. “I’m not so weak I’d be incapable of making my own choices while grieving. I let you do it.” He wears a different type of anger on his face, one infused with sadness.

“Chain of command forced you to obey me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I could have walked away—”

“If I’d been a random person outside of chain of command approaching you like that, initiating things and invading your space, touching you in ways I shouldn’t, you wouldn’t have thought twice about shoving me off. You hadn’t let anyone touch you before me and we didn’t have anything special to make you change your mind so suddenly. My job and title and your position influenced you to at the very least think twice before opposing me whether you want to admit it or not, and that already makes this wrong.” 

“That would have not stopped me from pulling a knife on you if I’d felt assaulted in any way.”

You grab his wrist, though you let him stay linked to you with his fingers on your chin. “Levi, go ahead and tell me that what I did was right. I dare you.”

His brows furrow even deeper. “I don’t regret anything.”

“Was it right? If Erwin started suggesting things, if Mike began pulling moves on a new soldier, freshly graduated… would it be right? We were lucky to be attracted to each other. What if anyone else had done it? What is okay for me to start things without asking you first? Without being absolutely sure it went both ways. Using my title to exert superiority. To show so much favoritism. Neglect my soldiers.” You take a step closer. “Can you condone my actions? Is it right, Levi?”

You can tell he tries to search for a way out of the answer you’re pushing for, but nothing comes to him. 

“No,” he says, surrendering. 

“So there you have it.” You release his wrist, and in turn, he lets go of your chin. “I’ve told you everything. I’ve answered everything. I confessed my feelings. And what was the point? What did it change for us? I know for a fact I don’t feel any better.” 

You cross your arms to try and hide your bare chest, if only to feel a little less exposed. 

You told him you loved him, and it sucks that he still looks so sorrowful despite your efforts. A confession shouldn’t have to make its recipient feel like this. You fucked it up big time once again. 

You’re lost. So lost. You can’t support a team, much less nurture a relationship. You wish it was different, but alas, it’s better for the two of you in the long run if you stay away. 

The sigh you expel doesn’t help you feel any lighter. “The reality is this. You’re duty-bound to the scouts and I don’t have a life outside of it either. I nearly cost us both our jobs. The outcome could have sent you back to the underground or gotten you sentenced. We both need the scouts, and we’re ruining that for the other. There’s no fixing this anymore.” You turn away, unable to bear with his proximity.

He grabs your hand. Such an intimate part to hold on to. 

Another crack appears in your heart when you force yourself to look at him. 

Life is absent from his eyes. “Do you regret this?” he asks.

What a cruel question. “I don’t know, Levi.” You wish things had gone differently. Maybe existing would be a little easier if you didn’t know what it’s like to love him and be forced to live without him. 

It kills you to slip from his grasp, but you said everything that needed to be said. Getting some closure was counterproductive in the end. Now you feel even worse than before. 

“You need to leave. Erwin’s been keeping a sharp eye on things this whole week.”

Your words make it definite. 

He steals another moment, but once he has seen enough of you to commit to memory, he takes himself out quietly and without looking back, graceful despite the circumstances.

He has always been better at masking his feelings. You, on the other hand, may need at least half an hour of solitude in this dusty room before you can risk venturing back into the real world. 

The door closes behind him with a soft click, sealing you inside a pool of your own sorrows, crammed among items and the furniture lying around.

It’s so hard to breathe.

You haven’t thought about what you’ll do with your ruined shirt. If your bra doesn’t draw enough attention, the giant bruises definitely will. 

To make matters worse, you realize you’ll have to clean the couch on your own. 

What a shitty day. 

The devil is nothing without her precious street rat. 

Chapter Text

The door to Levi's office slams shut, the man himself thumping against the wood with a frustrated sigh. 

He's hard, and it's so unfair. 

Levi had no idea what was to come after it all ended; the horrid ache he would have to deal with. He sees you almost every day, yet it feels as though a whole cliff lies in between. 

Your mere presence agitates his lonely mind, and with it, wishes he no longer has the right to feel tempt him and his weak resolve. 

He thought he could pretend, but it wasn't until a bit ago that he realized he was at his limit. His body couldn't help it. It was instinctual. It just reacted. 

Levi hasn't been the same since he met you, and he likely won't ever be the same now that you're gone. 

And, hell, it would be so much easier if he didn't have to see you. 

Instead he's condemned to face the daily reminder of what he lost. He has to watch from the sidelines how with the passing weeks you move on to better things alongside better people. 

Your smile has returned. Your flame has grown. Somehow, you seem even more beautiful from a distance, like a porcelain doll inside a glass case he's not allowed to touch.

It only makes him want you so much more. 

To think he was the first to suggest not to let it get to this point, to stop before any spark developed. He knows he was an idiot for speaking without understanding what it would be like to fall head over heels for someone. It doesn’t stop at will. It only grows and grows. 

Now he’s paying the price. 

Levi is broken and utterly ruined. He would take your anger with open arms before settling with the indifference you're giving him. Anything that guarantees he gets to be in your mind, even if it's for only a short second every once in a while. 

He wanted so badly to be seen, so badly to be the one you approached. The scene is carved into his brain with such detail he's convinced he's fucked up in the head. 

You walked up to a new recruit who sat at the bottom of the stairs, having just caught him bickering with a comrade of around his age when drills had already started. You stepped between them, but your full acknowledgement fell down on the kid, whom you pulled up from the nape of his jacket. 

Oluo, let this be the last time I catch you picking fights, you said, or titans will be the least of your worries, I promise you. Mind your damn tongue and behave.

Truly, something must be wrong with Levi for him to so much as entertain the idea that you might have said it to torment him. You were just doing your job, and like a damn creep, he witnessed from a distance. 

He's too hopeful, praying on his knees for scraps you aren't going to give. 

Mind your damn tongue and behave, used to be the same words he would receive for his misconduct.  

And he behaved. Levi has abided by every order and remained loyal to his commander. Many deaths have been prevented on his account. He has been a good scout, and Erwin says he's finally ready to lead his own team. 

You always knew he could, and now, months later, he'll get to prove you right. 

Good boy, Levi, you'd be telling him. Good fucking boy. 

He hears your voice so clearly, as if you were mouthing it against his ear. 

And good boys deserve rewards. 

The door receives his frustration with the heavy smack of his hand. You carved so many words in his head with the sharpest of knives. 

Want your reward, Levi? 

In the complete solitude of his office, he gives in to the quiet whine that parts his mouth, unstable breaths tearing from his lungs. “Please,” slithers low and heavy through his teeth. His hand balls into a fist, knuckles stiff against the wood. “Captain.”

Captain? 

Force of habit. 

He turns around, back sliding against the door until he's seated with his feet planted on the stone floor. “Section Commander.” His thighs press together, and the friction makes him squirm. He could touch himself—he wants to touch himself; but without your permission, he has no right to his pleasure. “Please,” he begs. 

Be silent. 

More memories resurface, pictured so clearly he's reliving a past where you would yank his cravat and stuff his mouth with it. 

The closest he can come to that feeling is biting his left hand to silence his own need. 

You are beneath me, rat. 

He is. Levi knows you're far above his league. A goddess he can't reach, and he's a sinner with prayers said goddess no longer has interest in hearing. 

But still, he calls. Even if it's in silence. Even if it's in the privacy of his office. Even if it's to himself and to the memory of you. He calls with every ounce of devotion in him for your name and your attention. 

So pitiful. 

Levi knows it. He is pitiful. He's also desperate and so stupidly in love. 

“Please,” he moans around his hand, which now stings from the hard press of his teeth. 

Take off your belt before I change my mind. 

So Levi rushes. He discards the belt and frees his throbbing hardness from the tight space in his pants. His heart rushes in his chest, leaving him with little breath to moan out your name as he grabs himself. 

Then he opens his eyes. 

Be silent was the command. 

You wouldn't let such disobedience slide. 

 “I'm sorry,” he musters out. 

Strike one, you'd warn. 

You always gave him chances. More than he deserved. More than anyone had ever given him. Although he would fuck up again and again, the marker kept restarting after strike three. 

Everything he is now, he owes it to you. To your patience. To your care. And it frustrates him to no end that you refuse to see it. You say you soiled him when in reality you saved him. His life is yours. Every beat his heart gives, every breath his lungs take, exists because of you. 

Mine, you would tell him. 

He was yours then and he is yours now, even if you no longer want him. 

His fist is steady, sliding over cum from base to tip, and he can't stop thinking about how heavenly it'd be if it was your hand instead. 

He recalls a time when your searing touch slid between his thighs. You pushed them so far from each other that they bounced against the bed. 

This time, on his own, they spread open on the floor. 

The glint in your gaze would make his heart flutter every damn time. He had not paid any attention to his flexibility until you showed him how much you enjoyed him like this. After that, he was secretly glad for it. You made him appreciate something else about himself. 

You had a knack for that. You would cast magic on him with your sweet praises. You always knew what to say. 

He swears he hears you as if you were standing next to him, as if no time has passed since you last addressed him by his name, your voice dragging it on with a honey-soaked tone. 

Between his thighs, he yearns. Inside his heart, he mourns for what used to be. 

Levi lolls his head to the side, touching the cold wood of the door with his cheek. His breaths hasten. His hand works faster. The other one moves to pull down his pants. 

Levi, Levi, Levi. 

An ordinary name turned divine by your grace. He didn't think he could get so obsessed with a single word of two syllables, but he did. You made it sound so special. 

And what he wouldn't give to hear it again at least once. You don't have to look at him or smile at him or show any kindness. He only wants to hear his name. Just once more and never again. You could ask him to get out of your way; you could cuss at him and that would still be enough… so long as you included his name. He isn't asking for much. Anything would be enough to bless his day—any crumb you're willing to give that isn't complete indifference. 

His fingers run along that particular vein that would always catch your attention, and he shivers, his body about to lend itself to full abandon. 

Where's the fun in coming so fast? 

Like the work of a spell, his fist stills, the effort to obey making him squeeze himself. A frustrated groan shoots from his lips. The back of his head hits the door as he waits for the orgasm to dissipate. 

Gorgeous, you would call him. 

He used to think you were only teasing him. No one had called him gorgeous or pretty before. His mother's gaze is a memory he seldom recalls, but he was a kid then without faults. He had yet to earn the terror of so many eyes. His hands were clean of blood and ignorant to the ways of a blade.

So many years later, you blessed him with a glimpse of that same look that truly told him he was beautiful. And he believed it. Whenever your eyes held the sight of his naked body, he felt like he was worth it. Him with his past and his scars and his shitty personality. 

The hand that isn't pumping between his thighs goes up to slip under his shirt. His abdomen swells into his palm with every hurried breath he takes into his lungs. He thinks about your touch and your warmth, trying to mimic those sensations, yet failing to do so. A callused hand that knows bloodshed and death could never compete. 

He feels so silly and unattractive, but he can't stop either. 

He brushes along his chest the way you would do it, underwhelming compared to the sparks you would shoot from your fingertips. Only his memory of you sweetens the touch by a bit. 

You knew exactly how he liked to be treated. He couldn't bring himself to say what he needed, but you always knew. 

You made vulnerability easy to come by. It was so addicting and strangely liberating. Levi couldn't comprehend his thoughts the first time he experienced them, but it makes perfect sense now that he lost the honor. 

He had been living life within a shell for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to feel truly alive. You hammered through his defenses and brought him out into the open, into a safe haven where he could let loose without risk of danger or judgment. 

You knew what lines to toe. You could tell when he needed roughness and when he needed to be weak. Your hands could treat him like he was steel, but also like he was glass. And his limit was never abused. You would bend him but never break him. 

You were perfect. You are so perfect. Levi wants you, and it makes sense that he can't have you. 

His entire body lolls off, heading down. The loss of balance doesn't register until he hits the floor on his side. 

He feels disgusting, yet he can see you straddling him, a picture so clear he almost believes it. 

He remembers the library. The time when you dragged him through the floor, shackled him to the dirty rails and gagged him with his cravat. 

The length of him pulses with more need.

Levi hurries. He grabs the long end of his cravat and bites it, then throws that hand over his head, trying to somehow bring back to life that precious memory by the fireplace. You made him feel so good then. Had he known he'd be deprived of these blessings today, he would have pushed for a fourth orgasm. He wishes he had. 

Levi starts jerking himself again, his arousal for you leaking from his flushed tip. 

If only he could kiss you, feel your tongue against his own and your hot breaths on his face; smell the scent that accompanies you and be left with that sweet aftertaste in his mouth. 

He mauls the fabric of his cravat, moaning your name around it, and the pinch of his eyes becomes so tight he starts seeing colorful lines behind his lids. His free hand balls into a fist around his black locks of hair; the one between his legs grips harder, as if he's trying to squeeze the cum out from his weeping cock. 

He wants you. He wants you so much. God, how he wants you. 

He let you go because he knows that. He's new to this all-consuming passion he feels for you, still figuring out how to control it, how to live with it and not let it cloud his judgment. 

He's struggling, but he owes it to you to try. 

You came from the streets and rose above that on your own, and as an orphan himself, he'd be nothing if not the worst partner by letting you throw all of that effort away for him. He had to ignore his feelings and be the first to take action, because just as he had needed it before, you had needed it then too.

It was easy for the two of you to get lost in each other, and in any other universe you would have both had the right to it, but here, wanting each other is selfish, it affects third parties and mocks Erwin's mercy; it clouds his and your judgement, makes the two of you act with your hearts instead of your heads. He knows that now, and you do as well. It just hurts that you crossed to the other side on your own while he's still here, with this terrible hole in his chest. 

You're the person he cares about most in this world. The stupid instinct that tells him to guard you will never go away, and he knows he'll be constantly fighting the selfish thought of wanting you to stay out of danger so he can feel some peace.

But love isn't selfish, and he wouldn't be worthy of feeling so deeply for you otherwise. 

That's why he fights it. 

When he looks at you with the symbol of freedom on your back, looks at the wings you fly with, at the glint in your eyes when you're past the walls, at the people that admire and depend on you; looks at how heavenly and amazing you are, Levi knows this is exactly where you need to be, and he's no one to take that away from you.

He couldn't let Erwin take that away from you either. 

So he promised to stay away, promised that his duty would come first, and now he has to live his days pretending that something in him doesn't crack whenever you walk away and he isn't there to guard you.  

The thought of you dying still terrifies him. 

A quiet sob tears through the hurried rush of his breaths, one he shoves back down so it clogs his throat and disrupts the chain that would have followed had he been less careful. 

It's okay, sweetness. 

The way you would always say those words had its sedating effect on him. Even if it's just for a moment, he can pretend he's safe in your arms, held by a gaze that adores him with all of his imperfections and his ugliness. 

You can come now. 

When he does, it's bittersweet. He acknowledges how fortunate he was at some point, how content he was with his life; that you were gracious enough to see past all the bad and give him a chance, that you cared about him to an extent he thought he wouldn't experience after the death of his close ones. 

He learns he fell hard for you, but that he lost you before anything could be done, and he's so ruined and desperate he became such a pitiful sight on the floor. He longs for someone he can't have, and he knows his only option is to feel this way and endure it until the ache passes with time. 

His eyes stray towards the ceiling, whole arm dropping to the floor with cum between his fingers. 

He's pathetic and filthy and so lonely. 

As befits a street rat. 

Chapter Text

“I’ve been looking into putting together an exclusive squad. A separate branch that specializes in skill and reports directly to me.” 

Levi moves his bishop across the board and settles back into the couch, arm strewn over the backrest as he meets the eyes of his commander. “For what purpose?”

Erwin turns away from the view of the training grounds, documents in hand that he gives a passing glance to while returning to his desk. “Assignments I wouldn’t normally entrust to anyone below the required skill level. Expeditions brim with shortcomings. I need a group I can count on with the likelihood of success no matter the task.”

“So I’m in it is what you’re saying.” Levi stays relaxed in his seat, voice monotone and steady, mirroring the nonchalant nature of his posture. 

Erwin lays the papers on his desk, treating them as though the slightest fold could make them worthless. When he lifts his head into the rays of the afternoon sun that seep in from the window, the blue of his eyes penetrates across the room like a couple of headlights on his face. “I want you to lead it, Captain.”

Levi isn’t prepared to feel the twist in his stomach. It’s an offer he had been expecting, anticipating even, but as it’s being presented to him, he realizes the weight feels a little too heavy on his shoulders. 

It’s much easier to evade, to yet again pretend that nothing in this world fazes him.

“Whatever you say goes, sir.” He reaches for the teacup that rests beside the chess board. “You don’t have to call me by that title, though. Doesn’t really fit me.” 

Erwin chuckles, letting a soft smile form from the edges. “It’s a matter of getting used to, that’s all.” Finally, he makes his way back to where the game is being held. “Have you been able to ease into your role without issue?”

“There hasn’t been a strike about it thus far.” 

Graceful as ever, Erwin takes the chair across from Levi, a towering figure even while sitting. “Were you expecting the opposition of my soldiers?” With only a quick scan of the board, he decides his move. His pawn advances, shadowing the piece Levi has threatened.

“A good chunk of them knew me when I joined.”

“You are the pride of the legion today. The scouts live on because of your efforts and they respect you for that. I know you see it. You’ve been the topic of conversation across many tables.”

He huffs, reaching out to place his teacup back on its saucer. “Don’t remind me. I heard what they’ve been starting to call me.” 

Levi doesn’t boast. He has always known he’s strong, almost inhumanely so. It’s in his nature, something that just is. Strength comes to him as any basic function comes to a regular human being. 

It was a little easier to forget he was born as an anomaly then, but now there isn’t a soul inside the walls that doesn’t know him for that very trait. 

Needless to say, he absolutely abhors it when people call him humanity’s strongest soldier. Not only is it flashy to a fault, but it places the faith of people in his unreliable hands. 

“It certainly sells,” Erwin chuckles, following Levi’s turn with another quick response that steals a black knight from the board. 

Levi keeps himself glued to the backrest, unwilling to expose the interest this match is starting to draw out of him. Challenging Erwin's psyche will only make him look like a fool by the end of it, even if he's only trying to have a fun time. 

“Regarding this new squad,” Erwin says as he watches Levi plan his next move. “I will give you the liberty of selecting who you consider to be among the most skilled from our pool of soldiers. You can look into any section you desire. Pick according to your judgment.”

His fingers hover over a pawn as he looks at his eyes. The uncomfortable feelings surge again; doubts and insecurities he hides deep within himself. “What’s with the privilege, Erwin?”

“I told you. This is an exclusive squad that will deal with varying levels of difficulty during expeditions. We need to be selective.” 

“And you’re letting me pick them?” Back to the match at hand, he takes a white piece with his bishop, still expecting the layers of planning on Erwin’s part that will make anything he does pointless in the end. 

Done with his turn, he reaches for his teacup.

Erwin studies the board, hands laced together before his mouth with his elbows propped on his thighs. “You have a good eye for character. Skill as well. I’ve seen as much in the time I’ve gotten to know you.” 

A distant nightmare flashes before his eyes, the faces of his two friends flickering like dying embers between curtains of rain and mist. That was the first time he knew hell, failure and shame mixed together in their rawest form. 

He thought he had forgiven himself for it, but the instability he’s feeling right now proves that it’s still a work in progress. 

“Don’t be nervous, Levi.” Erwin’s deep voice interrupts his downward spiral, pulling him back to the surface. 

He realizes then that his frown has gone loose, so he hurries to correct it. His tongue clicks hard behind his teeth in reproof. “That’s a ridiculous insinuation.”

“You’ll be fine.” It's a nonchalant yet certain confirmation. He reaches forward and moves his knight. “Check.” 

It pulls Levi’s attention back to the board. Erwin's knight is exposed to his pawn, practically calling out to Levi to make the obvious move, but he knows better than to think the man wouldn’t plan his sacrifices meticulously. 

Alas, his head is blank, unable to envision steps he’s yet to take with the precision of a gifted mind like Erwin’s. Strategy on this scale isn’t his forte. 

“I don’t know why you insist on playing this with me,” he grumbles, surrendering to Erwin’s schemes by killing off the threat with his pawn. “I must be a boring opponent.” 

His smile is genuine, Levi notes, and quite bright too. “On the contrary. My time away from paperwork is well enjoyed.”

He huffs through his nose, watching as Erwin corners his vulnerable black king once again. “Yet you still speak of work. That isn’t much of a break if you ask me.” 

“It’s enough of a break for me.”

“You never change.” He makes another move to protect his threatened king.

A knock on the door interrupts the game, or rather, the one-sided massacre. 

“Yes?” 

“Commander,” comes from the other side, and Levi recognizes the sound of your voice even before you say your rank and name. 

His body is a perfect puppet under his control, still and unchanging, not a blink or breath made without extreme calculation. He's perfectly situated on the couch despite the pit that forms in his stomach and the sudden, nervous skip his heart gives. 

The weight of Erwin's stare falls on him like headlights on a cornered prey, but even then, he retains his mask of composure, never looking up from his tea. 

“Come in,” Erwin says. 

He hears the knob and then the creak of the door, followed thereafter by the click of your heels as you step inside.

“Good afternoon.” It's like a veil has lifted when he hears you again, now so clear it triggers old memories. Your tone is composed, spoken in a way that suggests there's nothing out of the ordinary in this office. “I got word back from General Zackly regarding your most recent request.” 

Erwin stands to receive you, another participant in this show of flawless acting. “I’m listening.” 

He sees your blurred image from his peripheral vision, and he can tell you aren't looking in his direction either. You're both invisible to the other, or so the game of pretend entails. 

If there's anything these past months have taught him, it's the realization that you likely won't ever become another face in the crowd. It's gotten easier to go full days at a time without thinking of you when he's busy enough with work; it's gotten easier to focus on expeditions, to not give any thought to your whereabouts; it's much easier to fool his heart and distract his mind, but only if he doesn't have to see you. 

Your presence is tied to memories, vulnerable moments, an ache and hollowness that inevitably sparks to life the second you're within his vicinity, and it's as good of a reminder as any that things won't ever be normal between you. The two of you function better apart than with each other. It's a sad reality, one that has to be. 

He wonders if you mask your feelings as well as he does, and he wonders if you ask yourself that too, whether or not you care enough to think about these things the way he does when it comes to you. 

“Yes, Commander,” you answer to his orders, perfectly aligned with the soldier in you and her duty. “I’ll get to it right away. If you’ll excuse me.” 

When the door clicks behind you, Levi fights the innate urge of releasing a long breath. Instead, he keeps that poison in and pretends it doesn't asphyxiate him. 

He moves a random piece across the board. His turn serves no other purpose but to fill his hands with an activity. The light click on the board is stark in the silence, as is the sound of Erwin's steps and the screech of the chair that he pulls back to then sit on it.  

“It was my turn,” he states without judgment. 

Caught off guard, Levi flicks his eyes across the board. He can't remember Erwin’s last movement or the direction of the game. Hell, he doesn't know which piece he just moved. 

Careful, like he'll break if he acts too fast, Levi leans back into the couch, still with that poisonous breath stuck in his lungs. His face shows nothing. If he talks, he might expose himself, so his mouth stays sealed. 

Erwin keeps his eyes on Levi, who won't dare to look up. A beat passes, then two, before he reaches forward to correct Levi's move, then his hand shifts around the board, resuming his turn. 

Levi has seen a lot of bloodshed, a lot of failures, a lot of death and ugliness these past seasons, which is to be expected from someone of his occupation. He knows he can take it. Levi knows he won't break so easily, but without his outlet, he's constantly living with a tight knot in his chest. He can lock himself in his office and collapse on his chair, curse at the air and hit his desk. He feels a lot, but he can't bring it out. Not on his own. 

He's had to learn to go back to his old ways, back to the days where he didn't need an outlet; the days before you, when he had enough space inside himself to store every emotion the world thought he couldn't feel. 

“Her faith in you remains undeterred,” Erwin says, able to read the loaded silence that now hangs between them. 

Levi closes his eyes and takes a quiet breath through his nose. 

“You have both proven your allegiance to me,” he continues, eyes set on the board. “I won’t condone anything, but neither do I intend to keep you both from talking. So long as your priorities remain as they are, then it's fine to—” 

“You convinced her she ruined me. I've been a wounded animal in her eyes ever since.” He doesn't speak with spite, nor does he raise his eyes. If anything, he sounds a bit defeated. 

“I’m aware I was harsh.” Erwin pauses for a moment to gather his words. “Nothing I said was ill-intended. Letting her go wouldn’t have benefited anyone.”

Levi sighs. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Erwin. I understand what my standing is. We’re fine now as things are. Nothing needs to change. She’s doing well now.”

“Are you?”

He huffs. “Fantastic. Can’t you tell?”

Erwin offers him a sympathetic smile. “About your future squad, we can discuss your suggestions over lunch.”

“You'll find any kind of excuse to go to that place downtown.” 

But he’s just talking out of his ass. Levi likes going there too, and Erwin knows that.

After an inevitable loss in chess, Levi takes himself out to finish some work in his office before lunch. 

He has a mental list of people who are capable for this team that Erwin wants to assemble, but he isn't ready to think about what leading such a group would entail. Levi has always been fine with risking his life. He knows he doesn't have to deal with the limitations of a normal person. 

How is he supposed to act when others are involved? Where does he draw the line?

“Levi.” 

His first step on the stairway freezes, thoughts falling into disarray. Surely, he couldn't have heard that right. You called out to him. 

He looks toward the hallway, expecting a cruel trick of the mind. 

Instead, he finds you walking up to him, and nothing about him knows how to react. 

Your gaze is light and your expression free of bitter feelings. He isn't a special view in your eyes by any means, but neither does he feel like the object of your every misfortune. The layer that stands between you is of formality and nothing more.

He didn't realize how long it had been since he last took a proper glance at you. You've changed and yet, you look exactly the same. You seem stronger, much more assured, wiser, but your eyes, your face, your beauty; it's all there, just as he remembers. 

You take the first paper from the pile in your hold and offer it to him. “You forgot to write your signature on one of your reports.” 

He can't bring himself to speak. His hand moves with a mind of its own, the paper a good distraction to set his eyes on. 

The dotted line at the bottom is empty, a simple mistake he feels stupid about. Then again, anything he does makes him feel stupid if it's before your very presence. 

He positions the paper against the wall, takes out a pen from the pocket of his jacket, and begins to sign it. Such a simple task challenges him like he's in the midst of a test with a judge of critical eye right beside him.

He ends the last curve of his name and flings the paper back to you. 

The sight of your amusement comes like a punch to the gut. His first instinct is to hide inside himself and frown. “What?” 

“You didn't add your rank,” you say. “Yet again. I sent them back last time for that same reason.”

“Ah.” Levi doesn't know what to say. He checks the report again, rereading that four letter name like it might change on its own if he focuses enough. 

It's silent again. You're waiting for him, and he's only staring at the piece of paper like an idiot. 

He clicks his tongue, annoyed with himself. “Sorry,” is a low murmur as he hurries to correct the mistake. 

You cross your arms and chuckle. “Just a matter of getting used to, Captain.”

Chapter Text

The mess hall brims with conversation as the soldiers of the Scouting Legion enjoy their lunch break. You share a table with a few comrades, sitting across the most recent addition to your section. 

“You’ve come a long way in such a short amount of time, Petra.” 

Your comment pulls her out of her deep state of thinking. She almost drops her spoonful of mashed potatoes. Round eyes flick up from the bowl to show you their hopeful glimmer. “I… I have?”

You hide your endeared smile behind the palm of your hand, which supports your face above the table, elbow propped on the edge. “Yes. Your technique has shown improvement, so continue on as you have been.”

Her expression beams, and with the way she fidgets, it’s like she's forcing herself to stay seated, limiting her excitement to just her face and her fists. “I will, Section Commander! Thank you.”

Petra Ral is a promising scout of unique character, briefly five months since her enlistment into the Survey Corps; well into her teenage years, yet still far from being an adult. On paper, she’s officially a full-fledged soldier, graduated with honors and the promise of a successful career. 

In the field, however, reality was different for her and the soldiers of her batch, just as it tends to be for newcomers. Experience comes at the cost of mistakes and losses as the expeditions pile up. Only the ones who take these lessons and persevere through failure get to survive. Those are the ones who last in this deadly regiment. 

Petra, despite her gentle personality, is a soldier with soul and drive, a gift to the scouts that needn’t go ignored. 

And she’s not the only talent that joined your section. You've had to learn to get accustomed to the irritating prattle of another youngling in your group, behavior that you tolerate because he has the skills to back it up. Discipline isn’t an issue when it comes to him. He follows his orders and respects his superiors—admires them to the point of putting them on a pedestal even; but most of the time, you’re reminded of his age and the immaturity it’s laced to. 

Word says Keith Shadis will soon take the position of instructor in the Cadet Corps, and even though he may have failed to leave an impact as commander of the Scouts, you know he can be counted on to whip the new generations into shape. After all, Keith, as any other scout, knows true hell, and in the long run, it might influence the decision-making of the kids that graduate. 

Petra groans. “Oluo, tell me you’re not serious.”

When you look up, you have to slide the palm of your hand over your mouth to cover the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. 

Oluo Bozado shows himself with his arms crossed, chest sticking out as he towers over the people that are still seated. Try as he might, his small, hazel eyes don’t come close to being as intimidating as the overall look he’s trying to replicate. His appearance has changed dramatically in the past hour, brown bangs now trimmed into an undercut, white cravat hugging his neck with a messy knot only a ten year old would have managed on his first try. 

A chuckle escapes you, one that Oluo ignores in favor of glaring at Petra for her comment. “What?” he snaps, voice leveled in a way that imitates someone else. 

His behavior fuels the fire in Petra’s eyes. “What do you mean what? Why are you dressed like that?”

His mouth lifts from a single side into half a smirk. “Like it?”

“No!”

“It’s a statement.” He runs his fingers over the loose end of his cravat as if to erase the creases. “The Oluo you knew no longer exists. Consider him dead after the last expedition. Starting today, you stand before the scout that will become second only to Captain Levi.”

You shake your head, still smiling to yourself. 

Petra groans, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling, offended in Captain Levi’s stead. “Oluo, this is disrespectful. You don’t just copy Captain Levi’s style. How do you think that makes you look?”

The pride of the Survey Corps has become a household name. Where before men and women would come to see you off at the gates with contempt and ill wishes, now they rush for the chance of getting even a glimpse of the man said to be worth a hundred soldiers, a gospel of hope whose existence and talent is celebrated across every corner of civilization. With it came the people’s tolerance and faith in the work that the Scouting Legion does. 

Never before have the scouts been accepted the way they are today. It all went just as Erwin had foretold. 

The younger generations are the most drawn to and inspired by the legendary tales of humanity’s strongest, an admiration that gets solidified when they witness the walking miracle in action. Oluo and Petra haven’t lived it down since they first saw him. 

“You know what’s actually disrespectful?” Oluo scowls at Petra from his peripheral vision, showing only his side profile to her. “Needing to be saved by the captain, interrupting his work, and over something as fundamental as running out of gas mid flight. He doesn’t need to get his hands full with a brat in training.”

Petra gasps, and the heat rises to her cheeks. “How dare you!” She looks like she might implode. 

“Consider yourself lucky he didn’t bring up this—this embarrassment to the commander.”

You sigh. Their bickering has become a part of your daily routine. “Knock it off, you two.” 

The boy pulls a chair with his boot and claims it, then crosses one leg over the other and throws a single arm over the top rail. “But I was recognized by him. We even discussed important military matters. It was a proud exchange between two scouts, man to man, future master to future pupil.”

You roll your eyes, murmuring, “Oh, boy.”

Petra has little patience to ignore his ramble the way everyone else does. “Our section commander sent you to report numbers to him. That was it.”

“You wouldn’t get it, kid.”

“You sound nothing like him by the way!” 

“Oluo, Petra,” you say, calm in a way that intimidates them. “I get that we’re on a break, but I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like kids.” 

She bows her head in defeat, hiding the shame on her face. “Apologies, ma’am.”

Oluo clicks his tongue. “Yeah, fine,” he mutters.

Ire lights up her eyes again. “You’re the worst.” With no words to combat his impenetrable wall of confidence, she seeks support in you. “Section Commander, this shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Why? It’s not like cravats and undercuts are banned in the Scouting Legion. Oluo can be a fanboy if he wants. It’s up to Captain Levi how he reacts to it.” 

He scowls like a kid that has been embarrassed by his mother. “Not fanboy, Section Commander. It’s a state—”

“Yeah, yeah. A statement.” You rise from your seat. “If you’re truly shadowing him, then I expect near perfection on the next expedition.”

He tilts his chin up. “Captain Levi will be proud.”

“You should be striving towards making our section commander proud—”

“That’s fine,” you say, dismissing Petra’s outburst. “Oluo has found what motivates him to be stronger. Anything that gives you better chances of survival is valid.” 

Oluo keeps his smug look directed at Petra, none the wiser about your approaching figure. He flinches when you place your hands around his neck to fix his cravat. 

“Also,” you say, smiling, “your knot is kind of messy.” 

His eyes stray heavenward, the frown on his face bordering on a pout of tinged cheeks. 

Petra snickers. “Picture yourself walking in front of Captain Levi with that poor excuse of a knot.”

Done with your work, you pull back. Oluo keeps his glare on Petra as you walk away. “Silence, kid.” He splays his fingers around the rim of a teacup. 

You leave the sight behind you to walk to the doors, though it isn’t long before you hear a heavy thud on the table, followed by the legs of a chair scratching the stone floor.  

“Oluo!” Petra sneers, smacking the table with her palms.  

You sigh, knowing without having to look behind you that the teacup slipped from Oluo’s grip. “I trust you’ll clean that up, Bozado.”

“Good going, kid,” she jabs.

A chuckle leaves you. Although you tend to take the stance of a neutral mediator so as to not encourage their bickering, more often than not, you accept it and let yourself be amused by it. Erwin brought a lot of change within the Scouting Regiment with his ascension to commander, and as such, his flexible style of leadership has begun to reflect on his soldiers. Yourself included. 

Commander Erwin is by no means lax about order and duty, but when it concerns tradition and protocols, he knows when and how to work his way around them if deemed necessary. He inspires responsible autonomy in his soldiers, a lesson that inevitably bled among the leadership of the scouts.

In the course of six months, he lifted the regiment from the ground and brought it to what feels like the pinnacle of its run. One can only anticipate what will come with year one, two and three. Provided he lasts as long.

With his spear and shield at his side, he’s likely to make it to the conclusion of his service if he chooses it that way.

Much like the rest of the legion, Captain Levi is at the peak of his career. For months, he served directly under his commander, learnt his ways and associated with the right examples. He led small teams and conducted simple endeavors, all with the vision that he would eventually make it to where he is now.  

Erwin rectified your mistakes. He accomplished what you failed to do. And you’re glad he has. Ruining humanity’s greatest weapon wouldn’t have done it any good. 

There’s little you know about Captain Levi outside of the words that move between the mouths of your peers. Erwin adjusted the length of your leash upon the conclusion of your first month of sanction, having seen for himself that you were avoiding trouble and focusing on yourself in earnest, and by month three, you had regained enough trust that he completely let go, though your sanction would remain until month six.

Now, free of penalties —quite short of money too— you’re ready to keep the positive streak going under a clean beginning. 

It’s easier to stand tall in your new role this way. You’ve gone from commanding teams to having an entire section under you, a role that equals Mike and Hange in status. 

Expeditions have induced more stress since then, paperwork is a bitch and scouts come to bother you three times as much as they did before. It’s fine, though. Your story had a satisfying end despite your fuck-ups. You dodged the bullet and survived. 

You acknowledge the knock on your door with a formal “yes”, flipping a report to continue writing your walls of text on the other side. “Door’s unlocked.” 

Despite the creak of its hinges and the sound of boots stepping in, the pen in your hand continues to slide across the paper, chasing the thoughts you wish to plaster on the paragraph before they escape you. “Hm… right.” You finally tear your eyes from your writing. “Sorry, I—”

Speaking of the bullet you dodged, you feel like the muzzle is targeting you again, tied to the presence of Captain Levi who stands at the doorway, abstaining himself from fully stepping into the wolf’s den. 

He’s changed and yet, this wiser version of him looks exactly the same, with his trademark cravat and pristine uniform, keeping his hair trimmed and staying presentable at any hour of the day. 

It has been a while since you properly laid eyes on him, you realize. 

“Captain,” you greet, burying the surprise under layers of formality. This period of time has strengthened your acting, even to the point of fooling yourself sometimes. “How can I help?” 

“Do you have a minute?” He’s just as good of an actor taking part in this play, where past actions or wishes of a future don’t matter; only the now.

“Should I be worried?”

“No. Just a request.” He gives the door a light push, hiding the view of the hallway without closing his only way out. Privacy is what he’s after, you reason. 

You leave the pen aside and cross your arms over the table to incite his continuation. 

“Erwin is putting together a squad to handle the heavy work on expeditions,” he says. “Naturally, only elite soldiers can be appointed.”

“I heard.”

“I’ve been tasked with scouting for said soldiers, and I have my eye on a couple of people from your section.”

“Names?”

“Bozado and Ral.”

You blink, the only sign that you’ve been caught off guard. “I see.”

And for the looks of it, Levi notices. “Thoughts?” He crosses his arms as he waits for an answer.

Their bickering comes to mind; their age, their immaturity, the fact they have just started settling into the groove of things; you think back to four months ago, when Petra peed herself on her first expedition, the same one where Oluo froze at the sight of a titan and nearly got himself killed. 

You start rolling the pen back and forth on your desk to have something else to stare at. “Just that they’re fairly new.” And still kids, but that would be an unprofessional take on your part. They’re already scouts. “What do you see in them?”

“Talent,” he replies, his voice toneless. “Surely, you’ve seen it too.” 

“I won’t deny that, but they lack maturity.” 

“Which will come in time with experience in the field.” 

Levi has changed. His growth is there for you to see, right in front of you. The reflection of Erwin’s success is also the reflection of your biggest mistake, and his sensible approach to the subject of conversation feels like laughter in the face of your naivety. 

You have to understand they are not kids, not really, much less yours. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow. 

“I can bring out their talents,” he says, and when you look up, he’s much closer, gray eyes swirling with a distant emotion you can’t quite place. “I will protect them.”

You hum. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“I didn’t say that.” You’re upset at yourself for falling short, perhaps even a bit sour about the failure Captain Levi inevitably brings with his presence. It’s not his fault, but you can’t help it. “I’ll handle the necessary paperwork. You’ll receive it first thing tomorrow.” 

“This isn’t an order. You can say no.” He doesn’t sound as monotone when he speaks again. An emotion akin to mild desperation bleeds through torn seams. 

In view of the surprising change, your attention springs back to his face, and then you’re quick to regret it. 

You’re now the recipient of a gaze that scours for answers deep within yours, making you feel overexposed, almost naked in a way that’s embarrassing; yet in that search he also leaves himself open, and through slim cracks you manage to catch an emotion: his eyes are pleading, but not for those kids. He’s after something else, something of your very own. 

Your shoulders drop with the quiet sigh you let out through your nose. “You don’t need my blessing, Captain—”

“You can say no,” he insists. 

“What I think doesn’t matter.” 

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.” Your response shoots out with little patience, brimmed with emotions about to well over, but you cut yourself short in that moment. Closing your eyes, it’s like you reset your expression before you open them again. “Is that all, Captain?”

The curt way in which you utter his title carves an even wider crater between you.

Captain Levi assembles a stoic exterior in record time. “Good evening,” he finalizes.

As easy as that, the act begins again. 

The moment the door closes behind him, you let your head fall on the desk, where you breathe out a string of curses. 

A part of you hoped the time would eventually come in which you would both be able to put the past behind you and start anew, but a single encounter provided enough evidence to convince you that idea might be next to impossible. 

Had it been just sex, you might have been able to brush it off. Plenty of people do. You know of several scouts who can act normal around the partners they’ve hooked up with.

With Levi, it was intimate and loving, spurred by a connection that tied you to each other. Even from the very start, when it was supposed to be no strings attached, there was still meaning to it, as he had chosen you for what he hadn’t given to another. Somehow, for some reason, he trusted you enough to make himself vulnerable.  

You hadn’t given yourself the time to think about him since the day you cut off all communication with each other. He would have lived rent free in your mind all these months without effort on your part, so you kept your distance, you kept yourself distracted, and you acted, even to yourself, and especially when you were alone, because those moments were the most risky and where pretending mattered the most.

“Miss you,” leaves you through a wayward breath, a secret shared between you and the surface of your desk. It’s the first time you’ve allowed yourself to voice it. 

It hurts like it all happened just yesterday. 

You let yourself mope for another minute. Then, sooner than you’d prefer, you pick yourself back up, gathering the energy to tackle what remains of your day. 

You pour your focus on your work to keep your mind occupied. It helps to distract you, but an irremovable crack has torn through your afternoon, and now all you can hope for is a good night’s rest to wash it all away. 

Come nighttime, you finish supper and are one of the first to walk out of the mess hall, though not before Hange reminds you the chess set you both used that morning remains in the common area. You’re tasked with picking that up. 

Inside the building, you make an abrupt halt at the threshold of the room. The sight of the last person you wanted to see urges your feet to shift around and take you back out, but then Captain Levi lifts his eyes from the chessboard, and your only chance of escaping dies right there. You wouldn’t be able to disappear on him without proving that what happened earlier did affect you. 

The day has decided to fuck with you thoroughly. 

He’s standing beside the table, waiting for the tea to brew. You decide you'll pick up the mess and remove yourself with the little dignity you have left. 

“Sorry about this,” you say, doing your best to not divulge anything with your voice. “Hange and I were playing this morning.” 

He hums to state that he heard. His attention falls back on the queen he holds in his hand. “Erwin has been making me play. He’s turning chess into a damn headache.” 

He’s holding up better than you are. That or he’s an overall better actor. 

It’s working, though—this fake sense of normalcy he’s trying to build with casual talk. You decide to help nurture it. 

“You fell into the hands of the worst opponent inside the three walls,” you say. “I’d have damn headaches too.” 

He places the white queen in her respective place, swaddled by her army of equally white pieces. You realize Captain Levi fixed the board before you came here. 

“Erwin sacrificed his queen at the start of our last match and still won. I didn’t know you could do that.”

You chuckle. “Sounds like his style.”

“He gives up his pieces like they’re worth nothing.”

“Only the king matters in the end.” Your memory takes you back to the time you taught him the basics of chess. “I imagine you don’t sacrifice even a pawn.”

He confirms your claim with a low huff. “Doesn’t it take the whole battalion to win?”

“Chess doesn’t end with an army of one.” You lean your shoulder against the doorframe and fold your arms over your chest. “It ends when your king is taken, regardless of how many pawns you have at your disposal.” 

Captain Levi seems thoughtful for a moment, eyes glued to the board. One hand perches on the backrest of a nearby chair. “Is that kind of thinking what it takes to lead a unit?”

You fall silent, and your eyes follow his line of sight to the board. Something tells you he isn’t talking about chess anymore. 

Despite his time with Erwin, his ideals haven’t changed. Captain Levi has always had a strong aversion towards sacrifice in the name of a goal, or at least until it involves his own life. That’s just the kind of person he is. You aren’t ignorant to the pain that loss has brought him over time. 

Knowing he isn’t looking, you shake your head as if to rid yourself of the thoughts linking more than just the superficial to what’s supposed to be a light-hearted conversation. 

Still, it’s hard to ignore his troubles. It’s hard to pretend you don’t have the words to quell them. It’s hard to say you don’t care when in reality you do. You care like no one ever will. 

Surrendering more, you step into the room. “It’s still possible to win with your take on leadership. By teaming up with Erwin, he can do things his way while you do yours and protect his pieces. Together, you can be an impenetrable force. You don’t have to imitate anyone.”

He has torn his eyes from the board and is now staring at you, thoughts locked behind a safe inside his mind. “Except it doesn’t work like that in chess.” 

A diversion. You know he’s trying to dissipate the moment. 

An amused huff escapes you. Your shoulders feel light, free of the tension they once held. “Bottom line is… you can lead in your own style outside of chess, Captain. You’re lucky to be on the same side as Erwin when it counts. Leave all the ugly work to him.” You fold your arms and rest them on the backrest of the chair across from him, where the only object standing between you is the table. “No one complements his bright mind like your talents.” 

“Hm.” Following his awkward reply, he throws a glance at the kettle as an excuse to avoid your gentle gaze. “That’s an overstretch.” 

“If there’s anyone out there who knows your capabilities, it’s me, Captain.” You pause, debating whether or not to continue, though in the end, it’s pointless. You cave. “Bozado and Ral are in good hands. I’ll be at peace knowing you'll be there for them.” Finally, you bequeath the treasure he wanted to receive from you: your blessing. 

His stoic mask cracks, and mild surprise bleeds through an open gaze. His jaw shifts, holding a reaction in. He doesn’t let his hands express anything either, keeping them hidden behind folded arms. 

“You’ll be fine,” you continue. “Just do what you know. Erwin taught you well.” 

His eyes take in the moonlight differently when they’re soft. They seem lighter by comparison, more alive. “He was only there by the end of it.”

“He taught you what matters.”

“No.”

You expel a quiet sigh through your nose. “He got you here, and you’re doing well. You’d be wise to forget anything prior to that.” 

“I won’t.” His nonchalance is frustrating. 

Tension returns to your body. Your grip tightens on the chair. “You have to. It’s all… stuff that’d be better off forgotten.”

“But then I wouldn’t be myself.” 

“Captain…” You take several strides back, still unable to turn away from him despite your growing reluctance to stay. 

He sees your attempt at fleeing, and this time, he fights it. Captain Levi cuts the distance between you, and for every step you make to increase it, he too, makes another one. His face is composed, but his movements are desperate. 

“You made me into what you see today,” he says. 

You crash against the wall beside the doorway, cornering yourself, and maybe deep down, you don’t want to leave either. 

Your pain couldn’t be more evident in your glossy eyes and the brows furrowed above them. You have broken before he has. “What I did—”

“Saved me.”

“—ruined everything.”

“You saved me,” he repeats in whispers meant only for you. The gray of his irises quivers as he reaches for you, palm hovering inches above your cheek, scared to touch you and be rejected for it. 

Although you prove the opposite, he continues to thread carefully, getting closer and closer with an insecure approach, until his palm finds your cheek and he breaks apart with the wayward breath that leaves him.   

His skin is warm and callused, a touch that stirs so many memories in a single second. These images are what make a shiver run its course through your spine, and the resulting sigh that fires into the little space between you fuses with the warm puffs of air leaving his mouth. 

You can’t bring yourself to touch his hand, but you lean into it, and another layer falls from his eyes, something closer to the look you would see when he'd let his barriers collapse. 

“And you…” he whispers, “have you forgotten everything?”

The spell has already been cast, and you can’t walk away from it. Speaking through a ball in your throat, “No,” comes out. 

With another step, your bodies meet, all heat and familiar skin and desperate pining exchanged through one, whole touch. Captain Levi exudes safety, the final lock that secures this inescapable trap, not because of his strength, but because of the feelings that keep you rooted to the floor. He’s so close now, the tip of your noses brushing. His gorgeous, silver stare disarms you, topped by lashes that flutter in their struggle to stay open.

“Say my name.” Quite unlike an order, it’s the request of a very desperate man. With another step, he crushes you to the wall. “Just my name.” His nose finds your temple, where he breathes you in like it is his first time coming out from underwater after so long. “No titles.” 

Your eyes are lidded, the hairs on your back rising with jitters. You don’t offer any resistance. “Levi.”

He skims down, tracing the side of your face with quiet breaths. Below, his lips make a scant brush on your cheek. “Again,” he begs. 

Your hands rise to grip his waist, pulling him in from the shirt. “Levi.”

His second palm claims your other cheek, and slowly, without moving from his position, he steers your face. “Just one more time,” is a whisper against your lips, “please.”

Your hearts sing to the beat of a wistful and anguished tune, thumping right over the other, as if desperate to meet. 

You close your eyes. “Levi.”

The sound of the door at the entrance disrupts the spell. Eyes widening, you move your hands from his waist to his chest and push. Your first attempt doesn’t move him, but it’s what wakes him out of the stupor. A second push makes him retreat like you've suddenly burned him. 

The wall behind you supports the weight your legs aren't able to handle. You pant with a hand on your chest, feeling the most pain and longing you haven’t experienced in a while. He revived it, and you need to stay away. It was childish to think you could be anything besides this: two broken soldiers so secretly attached. 

The steps of whoever came in wither away into the second floor. 

Like you, Levi can’t pull himself together. His knitted brows and lidded eyes keep him bare before you, mouth parted with the same need as you to release the air stuck in his lungs. A part of you thinks he wouldn’t refute it if you walked back to him. 

He wouldn’t. With the way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s begging you to make it easy on the two of you, to take that first step just so he can unchain himself from the chair and run to you. He could kiss you, and take you to your quarters, where you could spend just one more night together, making the most of it knowing it’d be the last. 

He wants it. He wants it too much. Levi keeps himself bare for you, the pieces of his protective mask still scattered on the floor, no trace of humanity’s strongest in sight. Just a man of flesh and bone. The same man you love so dearly. 

Shit. This is too much. 

You make a run for it the other way without daring to look behind you. Seeing even a glimpse of his defeat would finish destroying you. 

Inside your quarters, you throw the door and slump against it.

Six whole months did nothing to keep you from loving him. 

Fucking hell. 

-

The act of two resumes the next day. 

It’s like you’ve retraced every step and made it back to the morning after that awful argument six months ago. 

And just like you did then, you rely on pretenses now. Acting helped you fool yourself once and it can very well help again. You can tell yourself you don’t love him until the lie becomes a fact. 

You will repeat the formula until it works, and it damn well better. 

Coming into the mess hall, you find Oluo with a leg up on a chair, inflated ego swelling his chest, more than what you’re used to seeing. As opposed to before, when his peers would dismiss him as all talk and no show, now they seem intent on listening. 

“Section Commander!” Petra runs up to you, nearly stepping on your toes when she halts. Her eyes are wide and her smile reaches up into her flushed cheeks. “I–I can’t believe this, I… Captain Levi requested my presence at his office and he… I-I…” She skips around, swinging her hands around as if they could be a suitable replacement for her lack of words. “He, he recognized my abilities and…”

“Come on, Petra,” you chuckle. “Just say it.”

She gathers a mouthful of air. “He’s recruiting me to the Special Operations Squad.”

“That so, huh?” You place your hand on her shoulder and offer it a gentle squeeze. “Take good care of your team, Petra, and watch over your captain. He might need it too.”

Her eyes are beaming. “Section Commander, I won’t disappoint you. I will prove myself and follow Captain Levi to the ends of the earth if he asks it of me.” 

You smile, and it isn’t as difficult as you expected it to be. Her joy is contagious. It’s amazing to see how much influence Captain Levi has on these kids. 

If only he knew how much he’s admired, how far they'd go for him, how much they trust him and the bravery he inspires, maybe then he wouldn't doubt himself so much.

You suppose that thought will change over time with experience in the field. 

Chapter Text

You stand on one end of the table while Commander Erwin and Captain Levi address you from the other side. A map of the region you call the outside world lies between you, marked with pins on strategic places and other areas the Scouting Legion has covered. 

“Reconnaissance from the north has delayed their return for more than two hours,” Erwin informs. “No sight of signal flares either. We are to assume by now that they’re either in trouble or dead, but until we’re certain, we can’t abandon twenty three soldiers to the titans.” He lifts his attention from the map to cast unreadable eyes on you, a gaze that sees the world behind a strategic lens and nothing more. “Section Commander, you will gather up a squadron and set out on a rescue mission. Leave now, before the sun rises and titan activity begins again.”

You stick your heels together and drive one fist to your chest, the other one curls behind you, showing a perfect salute to your commander. “Understood.”

“I’m sending the Levi Squad to join you in this endeavor. I will not risk any more complications.” He turns to the man who reaches below his shoulder, nodding at him to go. 

You push past the flap of the tent with Captain Levi in tow, determined to leave camp as early as possible. While he fetches his team, who have long since tucked themselves into their sleeping bags, you deviate to gather up your own troops. 

Between fastening gear and saddling up the horses, the assigned rescue team is up and ready to depart upon your directive. The journey to the north has a dangerous stretch of open terrain to cross before you can make it to the specified area. Reconnaissance departed before the hours of dawn, almost twenty four hours ago, and should have already made it back with reports of their survey. You are to assume the worst happened. 

Disasters are a common concept during expeditions, but it doesn't get easy, and you never get used to it. No one does. 

You lead at the center of the formation, flanked by members of your team transporting medical carts and spare horses. The most skilled from your section tail behind you, entrusted with the extermination of titans should any of them sneak up unannounced. The Levi Squad crowns the formation, providing a safety net that shrouds the entire team. 

The consensus shared across the regiment is that security is guaranteed so long as the Special Operations Squad is involved, a rather square minded approach, in your opinion, yet one that can’t be helped. It’s a group filled with the star players of the regiment, after all. One is bound to place their full trust in them. 

“Titan,” Petra announces. 

It’s only been a couple of months since her transfer and you can already tell through her tone that she has matured. The girl is a pillar of composure in the field, well accustomed to the sight of a titan by now. 

It lies on the grass a short distance away. Its round eyes follow the group it no doubt sees as running appetizers, fingers twitching beside its head, devoid of the energy they possess in plain daylight.  

“Eliminate it,” Levi orders. “It’ll be a pain to handle on our way back with carts of injured people on our backs.”

That is, assuming you return with anyone. 

Petra mirrors the grace of a bird with large wings, a noticeable improvement in her technique since the day you entrusted her to Captain Levi. Granted, it’s a moveless titan, but this peek into her evolution has imbued you with a burst of delight. 

You travel through the open fields with no predicaments. The occasional titan makes an appearance, all of them in the same sluggish state. Captain Levi commands their extermination so they don’t pose a problem on the way back. 

You slow down to a trot at the foot of a mountain range, the specified area Erwin sent the reconnaissance team to survey. They were expected to analyze the conditions of the terrain and clear out the titans if they found it apt for the establishment of a base. 

It’s quiet apart from the currents of wind gliding through the trees and the cry of the occasional animal. 

A moaning titan lying between the bushes surprises one of your soldiers, and Oluo wastes no time in chastising him with a hasty shush uttered against his pointer finger, the word ‘punk’ paired with it.

Petra proceeds to shove her elbow into his ribs, and upon stumbling, Oluo ends up biting his tongue. One complaint answers to another, then Captain Levi promptly ends the exchange with “enough”, and both kids leave it at that. 

Some things never change. 

Your group makes quick work of the inactive titans, clearing out the area while keeping an eye out for survivors. 

The sight of the light blue sky exhausts your patience. It won’t be long before the sun begins to rise. You load an acoustic flare and fire it into the sky with the hopes that someone will hear it, its high-pitched ring tormenting your ears. 

A beat of silence follows.

“Anyone out there?” A distant echo emerges behind the trees.

Someone has answered the call. 

“Yes,” you call out to them, bolting off in the direction it came from. Captain Levi and the rest follow behind you. “Keep talking!”

“We have injured men,” the voice responds. 

You follow the raspy sound to its source. The sun has yet to poke its head, but it's starting to stretch out its rays, which you can faintly see bleeding through the tree leaves. 

“We’re taking shelter in a cave.”

Finally, you find a face for the voice. A scout with shaggy hair and sunken eyes greets you at the entrance of a cave, waving the team over with the little strength left in his arm. His tiny smile is a flicker of light in his otherwise tired demeanor. 

“Thank you for coming, Section Commander, Captain Levi.” 

“Your commander would never abandon you.” Coming to a halt, you look past him to check inside the cave for an estimate of the soldiers that survived, but the darkness within limits your survey. “How many injured men are we talking about?”

“Nine injured. Five standing.”

You give a slight grimace. “Damn. What happened?”

“Horde of titans came out of nowhere. We lost our supply wagon and half of our horses got trampled on. The remaining ones ran away.” He lowers his head, standing in for the leader they appear to have lost in the battle. “My deepest apologies. We failed to meet expectations.”

“Bad days happen to everyone, Squad Leader.”

Captain Levi joins your side, green cape billowing behind him. “Worry about making it back alive. You and your comrades. That’s your new order.”

A spark is born in the soldier’s gaze from that brief interaction with the legend himself. “Yes, Captain.”

The state of the injured is grave, missing limbs, lacerations and broken bones among the worst of the problems you catch at first sight. Your team helps with their transportation to the wagons. No one from reconnaissance has come out of their mission unscathed, but the ones fit enough to ride on horseback are expected to do so. 

You walk among rocks, dim light and humid air, looking around the depths of the cave just in case you happen to find abandoned provisions or a forgotten soldier. One can never be too sure. The increasing glow from outside pours in up to a certain extent, and you make sure not to step past it into complete darkness. 

The constant click of boots reverberates into the stone walls. Captain Levi appears in the corner of your sight, outlined by the radiance of a new day. “That’s all of them.”

“Good.” You hear a light echo after your response. 

“Let’s go. This place reeks. I can’t stand it.” He’s already turning to head back out, though his movements are slow to give you time to catch up. 

“Pretty sure it’s the humidity.”

“Hm.” He kicks a pebble out of his path, sending it off to the shadows. 

An ugly squeak bounces off the walls, and then some kind of big rodent jumps out of the same spot that Captain Levi disturbed with his attack. 

A titan would sooner turn around than hope to force its way past humanity’s strongest, yet a single rat makes that same deity scurry to the side, letting the animal just run by. A frantic snarl rises from his throat and echoes off into the looming depths of the cave.

You slap a hand over your mouth to hold your laughter in, letting it swell your cheeks. 

He fixes you with a harmless glare from his peripheral vision. “Don’t start.”

“Hey.” You zip up your smile and toss away the imaginary key, promising your silence. 

A hollow clink cuts his reaction short. Another one comes, and then more follow. These little sounds continue to multiply, hitting the metal of your scabbards and the floor. The two of you throw glances at the ceiling and realize that small particles are detaching from above. 

The ground shakes, massive steps approaching. 

You look into silver, and silver looks back at you, your minds connected. 

“Tita—” You aren’t able to complete the word. 

In the single stretch of a second, pandemonium breaks out. The ceiling collapses beneath the weight of a titan and brings about what could compare to the feeling of standing right under a meteor shower. The resulting earthquake makes your stance falter. You can’t see through the rising dust and lose sight of Levi in the process. 

It feels like the world is ending. 

“Levi?!” You scream out for him, stumbling forward until his frame recovers some shape. 

“Go.” Levi doesn’t move without you, and he waits until you run past him to join the escape. 

The calls of your comrades await you outside, guiding you towards safety. You train your wide eyes ahead and keep your legs moving in tandem. The air is thick with dirt and debris, hard to inhale on top of having to deal with your heart in your throat and your lungs pushing out breaths faster than you can take them.

A boulder double your size drops like deadweight in your path, two steps away from crushing you. The shock halts your step, death staring you in the face, but Levi snatches your wrist as he passes you and pulls you along. 

“Don’t stop,” he barks. 

“S-sorry.” You speak through a knot, now feeling your heart in the back of your tongue. Sheer adrenaline keeps your legs active despite lacking sensation in your knees. Your gear weighs you down as if years of training suddenly mean nothing.  

The light at the end of the cave looks like a perfect representation of what the gate to heaven must be like for sinners trying to escape hell. You force your feet to move behind Levi, his grip on you so tight you feel his square nails piercing your skin. 

You’re a handful of steps away from making it, but a crack pulls your attention above you, where you catch sight of the entrance about to give out. 

An instinct of survival tells you to jump back, which ends up breaking your contact with Levi.

He spins around, already under broad daylight. “Hey—!” You see undiluted panic making small dots of his pupils, the silver in his wide eyes looking eternally vast. 

Then you see nothing. 

The entrance collapses, sealing the only way out.

Dirt rises into thicker clouds. You can only protect your head and duck while the world falls around you. Your perception spins and your body recoils, at the mercy of the external forces attacking you from every angle. 

Mere seconds feel like hours before chaos settles into massive piles of dirt, rocks and boulders around you. It’s only by chance that you didn’t get crushed in the process. 

Your ears ring, making you detect the sound of your coughs through a thick vail. As your thoughts return, you can only think about the pure, unadulterated hatred you feel for the titan that made you go through what you’ll now know as a solid contender for the most horrid seconds of your life. 

Every bone and muscle throbs, exhaustion washing over you like a blanket laid out on your body, and it lulls you to a partial state of drowsiness. 

Your name sounds like it’s coming from a mile away.

You only want to sleep. 

“Section Commander!”

Some of the fog pressing down on your ears lifts. 

You hear your name again, this time through a clearer perception.