d0ctorstea

[d0ctorstea]

Zayne request: reader is toxic, makes him jealous until he murders someone

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲▶ toxic games レイ

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ when you both are stuck in a toxic love

in which you, driven by a desire for control, manipulates zayne by making him jealous, flirting with other men to provoke his emotions and break his composure. as the tension builds, zayne ultimately snaps when you push him too far.

──── yandere ! zayne x gn toxic ! r ╱ ⌕ lovers2???, fluff ∿ w. unhealthy relationship ( they both are toxic ) , unethical relationship at the end ( kidnapper x hostage ) , romantic relationship , established relationship , cannon au , present timeline , second pov , yandere character , toxicity , not proofread wc. 5k (4,978) ｡ ｡ normally I don't want the first thing I write for a character to be this extreme, but I like this idea of they both being toxic.

☆ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘��� 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 control. It was your domain, your power, the thing that made you feel invincible. You thrived in the spotlight, the rush of being the one everyone noticed, the one they desired, the one they couldn’t stop thinking about. You knew how to draw eyes, to pull people into your orbit and keep them there, desperate for more of whatever you were willing to give. But with Zayne, control felt different. It wasn’t just a game anymore. He wasn’t like the others. He was the type of person who seemed completely unshakeable—his composure, his quiet intensity, the way he moved through the world with that cold, yet somehow gentle, confidence. There was something about him that made you feel small, almost insignificant, in a way you hadn’t felt before. No matter what you did, your usual tricks, your charm, your manipulation—it couldn’t touch him. He was immune to all of it.

That unnerved you, more than you cared to admit. And you hated that. It was as if all your carefully honed skills, everything you’d relied on for years to control others, suddenly didn’t work on him. He made you realize that control wasn’t just about what you could make people feel. It was about what they made you feel, too. And Zayne made you feel weak, something you hadn’t been in a long time. So, you had to change that. You had to make him feel something. Anything. You couldn’t just let him stand there, unflinching, while you crumbled in the face of his indifference.

You would make him lose control. You would find his cracks, his vulnerabilities, and you’d exploit them, twist them until he was desperate for something he couldn’t ignore. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how deep you had to dig. You would make him feel what you felt—exposure, desire, the urge to dominate, to break free from whatever perfect calm he had. And when you saw that glimpse of him unraveling, just for a second, you'd know that you'd won. You would make him want you, in a way that he couldn’t hide, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. And that would be your victory.

It started slowly—at first, just the little things. Small, almost imperceptible shifts that only you could fully appreciate. A smile at a stranger in front of him, lingering just a little longer than necessary, enough to send a silent message, one that Zayne would notice. A laugh, louder than usual, trailing on for a beat too long, a bit too carefree, just to see the way his gaze would sharpen, just to see if the quiet undercurrent of jealousy might slip through his stoic exterior. A hand, resting just a bit too casually on another person’s arm, lingering in a way that hinted at intimacy, but was still entirely innocent—at least on the surface. Each gesture, each playful move, was a calculated test, a subtle way to pull him closer, to see if his composure would crack under the pressure of his own emotions.

Zayne always watched. You could tell by the shift in his posture, by the faint narrowing of his eyes, the way his focus would lock onto you whenever someone else caught your attention. You could see the subtle twitch of his fingers, the way his jaw would tighten, just slightly, whenever you gave someone else more of your attention than him. But he never said anything. He never confronted you, never made a move to challenge your behavior, never let his cool façade slip. He was too controlled for that. He’d simply observe, as though studying you, as though waiting for something—a reason, perhaps, to intervene. But the thing was, Zayne didn’t need to speak. His silence was its own form of power, a quiet reminder that he could see everything, even the smallest details, and yet he didn’t need to react.

It was maddening, in a way. You could feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface, but it was never released. And that made you want to push even more, to see just how far you could go before he couldn’t hide it anymore, before that mask he wore so effortlessly slipped and he lost the calm that made him who he was. You could almost feel him resisting, holding back, controlling himself just as you had always done. But you weren’t like the others. You knew how to play this game better than anyone. And you would make him play it, too.

The little things continued, and you watched him carefully, waiting for the slightest crack. Every look, every pause, every shift in his body language became a puzzle piece you were slowly collecting, until you were certain you’d figured him out. But the more you tried to get under his skin, the more you realized: Zayne wasn’t just observing you. He was studying you, too.

You didn’t care. Not anymore. The stakes had shifted, the lines had blurred, and you found yourself fully immersed in the game. The one you didn’t intend to play at first, but now couldn’t escape if you tried. A dangerous one. You could feel the rush of it—the thrill of uncertainty, the way every move you made had a ripple effect, stirring something in both you and him. There was something intoxicating about the risk, the way it made your heart race, the sense that you were teetering on the edge of something you didn’t fully understand but craved all the same.

It didn’t matter if the consequences were uncertain or even dire. The deeper you went, the more you realized that you were hooked. The more you tried to make him react, the more you reveled in the challenge. It was about more than just control now; it was about proving to yourself that you could make him bend, that you could be the one to break his composure, to pull him into a chaos he couldn’t hide from. You could see the danger of it, the way you were both walking a thin line, playing with fire, but it only made you more determined.

You wanted him to feel the weight of his own restraint, to recognize that you were capable of pushing him further than anyone ever had. He had built walls around himself, walls that made him invulnerable, but you were testing those walls, chipping away at them slowly, strategically. You could see the way his control slipped sometimes, in those fleeting moments when his gaze hardened or his breath caught just slightly. You fed off that—fed off the power you held in those brief seconds when you knew you were getting closer to something real.

You didn’t care about what happened next. The danger only heightened your desire. There was no turning back now. Every step forward felt like a challenge, like a dare, and you were ready to take it. He was playing, too—his own dangerous game, his own silent war of restraint. But you wouldn’t stop. You’d keep pushing until you saw his resolve crumble, until you made him lose himself just as you were losing yourself in the thrill of it all.

It was no longer just about getting him to react. It was about survival now—surviving the storm you were both creating, the web of tension you were weaving around each other, until either of you knew which way was up.

The first time you pushed him too far, you didn’t even notice how deeply it was affecting him. At least, not at first. You were so focused on your own game, so caught up in the little victories you were winning that you didn’t stop to see the effect it was having on him. He was sitting next to you on the couch, his usual calm demeanor in place, his posture relaxed but alert, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike—except he never struck. He was always still, always controlled, and that only made you want to push harder. You wanted to see him break, to see a crack in that flawless exterior.

You didn’t even realize how much the situation had shifted until you glanced at him, catching the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes weren’t meeting yours anymore, but instead were locked onto something else—something that didn’t even matter. It was just a man you’d met earlier that day at a café, someone who’d caught your attention for a few fleeting moments, someone who seemed harmless enough. The guy wasn’t even particularly interesting—nothing special at all, really. He wasn’t the kind of person you’d ever consider making a connection with, not in any real sense. But it wasn’t about him. It was about you and the way you interacted with him.

The way you spoke to him, leaning in just a little too close, letting your laughter linger in the air between you like a secret shared in public. The way your eyes sparkled when he laughed at your jokes, a hint of something more, something playful in your gaze, like you were enjoying something that wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes. The energy between you and this stranger was light, almost flirty, but it wasn’t the stranger who caught Zayne’s attention—it was you. It was the way you were so effortlessly magnetic, so effortlessly in control of the situation, making the man laugh and smile as if it was your natural state of being.

You didn’t realize that every second of it was eating at him. The more you leaned into the conversation, the more you reveled in the attention you were getting, the tighter his grip on the edge of the couch became. His fingers were curled into the cushion, so subtly you almost missed it. His lips pressed together, holding in whatever thought or emotion was rising in him, and there was a slight flare in his nostrils, a tension building in the lines of his face that you mistook for nothing more than his usual impassive nature. But it was different this time. There was something more to it. It wasn’t just indifference anymore.

You didn’t notice at first. You were too lost in the moment, too wrapped up in making the man feel like he was the only one in the room, when in reality, Zayne was the one you were trying to make feel something. But as you continued to weave your charm, to let your body language say things that your words never could, you felt a shift in the air. The temperature seemed to drop just slightly, the weight of something unspoken settling between you and Zayne, though he still never moved. His gaze was fixed on the conversation, but his attention was on you.

And that was when you realized—just for a moment—that you’d crossed a line. Not with the stranger, not with the man you were charming, but with Zayne. The look in his eyes had changed, a flicker of something more dangerous, more desperate than anything you’d ever seen from him.

It was subtle, at first. The way he sat there, still and composed, but something deep inside him was rattling, was beginning to crack under the pressure. You didn’t see it for what it was at the time—didn’t realize the depth of how far you’d pushed him. But you knew one thing for sure: you had made him feel something. And that was just the beginning.

Zayne sat silently, his fingers gripping the armrest so tightly you could hear the faint cracking of the wood. His gaze didn’t leave you, but it wasn’t filled with the warmth it usually held. It was something darker, something you didn’t recognize at first. It wasn’t until you saw the faint flicker of pain in his eyes that you realized just how much this was eating at him.

"Are you jealous?" you asked, your voice light, playful, laced with a challenge you knew would catch him off guard. You turned to him with a teasing smile, fully aware of the way his hands trembled, the subtle signs that his calm façade was slipping. There was a rush in watching him like this, in seeing him so close to losing control, yet still trying so damn hard to maintain that carefully constructed composure. "Zayne, you're acting a little possessive."

"I’m not," he replied quickly, the words coming out too fast, too tight, as though he were trying to convince both you and himself. He shifted in his seat, his eyes briefly flickering toward you before quickly darting away. He looked anywhere but at you—at the man in front of you, at the space between you and him, at the growing tension that was slowly suffocating the room. "I just… I don’t like seeing you with others."

It wasn’t anger you heard in his voice. It wasn’t frustration, either. It was something quieter, something far more dangerous—quiet pain, a raw vulnerability he had no idea how to mask. It was the kind of emotion Zayne rarely allowed to show, the kind of thing he fought tooth and nail to keep buried beneath that unshakable confidence of his. The way he couldn’t hide the conflict in his eyes, the soft tightening around his jaw, made it clear that this was something new, something unsettling for him. And that—that—was what made you want to push harder.

You leaned in closer to the man in front of you, casually brushing your fingers against his wrist, a small, deliberate touch meant to further fray the edges of Zayne’s patience. Your fingers lingered, almost sensually, and you could feel the brief moment of discomfort pass through Zayne like a shockwave, his breath catching just slightly, his gaze flicking to you for an instant, as if pleading with you to stop, even though he wouldn’t say it.

"You’re being ridiculous," you said, turning back to Zayne, offering him a smile that was all mischief and challenge. You could feel the air thickening around you, a quiet, electric tension hanging between you, one that both of you knew was building to something neither of you could fully control. "I’m just talking to him. It’s not like I’m going anywhere."

But the words felt hollow, even to you. They were a lie, a small lie, but a lie nonetheless. You knew you were testing his limits, carefully prodding at the fragile boundaries of his control, trying to see just how far you could push him before that veneer of perfect composure shattered. You wanted to see the real Zayne, the one who was buried beneath that cold, distant mask. You wanted to see him unravel, wanted to make him feel the sting of something he couldn’t just ignore.

And deep down, beneath the thrill of the game, you couldn’t help but feel an addictive pull—the kind of thrill that only came from playing with fire and watching it dangerously inch closer to your skin. It wasn’t just about control anymore, not entirely. You didn’t need Zayne to be perfect, to remain untouchable, to stay that calm, composed version of himself that always seemed to hold the upper hand. No, what you wanted now was more visceral, more raw. You wanted him to break. You wanted to see him give in to the things he fought so hard to control—the need, the jealousy, the desperation. You wanted him to need you in a way he couldn’t deny.

And that need, that crack in his armor, was what you’d been searching for all along.

You started ramping it up. Little by little, the teasing became deliberate, each move calculated to draw him in, to make him feel something that he clearly didn’t want to. You knew the game now, the push and pull of it, and you had a new goal: making Zayne feel the weight of his own emotions. The more you did it, the more exhilarating it became. At parties, you’d flirt shamelessly with anyone who paid you attention—men, women, whoever. It didn’t matter. You were just playing the role, letting the attention flow over you like a second skin. Men would circle around you like moths to a flame, laughing at your jokes, offering you drinks, as if you were the only one in the room worth talking to.

But you weren’t focused on them. Not really. You were always aware of Zayne, always watching him out of the corner of your eye. Every time you threw a glance his way, you caught the subtle shift in him. The tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with something that wasn’t anger—not quite. It was something worse, something darker. There was a flicker of possessiveness there, of something deeper and more desperate, and it made your pulse quicken. But he didn’t say anything. He never did. He just watched. And you fed off that.

One night, the atmosphere felt charged in a way that was hard to ignore. The music was louder, the people around you more animated. But there, in the corner of the room, Zayne stood, still as ever. And that’s when David appeared—a friend of a friend, someone you had met only briefly. He was tall, charming in that easygoing, carefree way, and it didn’t take much for him to pay you just a little too much attention. You could feel his eyes on you, the way he moved closer, offering you a drink, laughing too loudly at your jokes, all the while you stayed focused on Zayne.

You leaned against David a little more than necessary, letting your fingers brush against his shoulder in a way that was just shy of too intimate. You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that lingered in the air, just loud enough for Zayne to hear. And when you turned your head, you saw it—the subtle shift in Zayne’s posture, the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the tightening of his grip on the glass in his hand. His eyes were locked onto you, unwavering, his gaze burning with something that left a familiar taste in your mouth—hunger. Not the kind you saw in others, not the lustful, surface-level desire, but something deeper, darker. A kind of need that Zayne wasn’t used to showing.

David, oblivious to the tension, leaned in a little too close, his hand drifting to your waist. His touch lingered just a moment too long, and that’s when you saw it—the flash of raw emotion in Zayne’s eyes, something dangerous, something feral. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even shift his position, but the weight of his stare was unbearable now.

You felt it. The hunger. The way Zayne was holding himself back, trying to keep his composure even as his whole body seemed to vibrate with that suppressed urge. His restraint was almost painful to witness. It was a crack in his usual stoic demeanor, and it was growing wider with every passing second.

David’s hand didn’t move, his fingers still tracing the curve of your waist in that casual, possessive way. But the effect it had on Zayne was palpable. You could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut through, and you knew you’d pushed him to the edge. The thrill of it, the power you held in your hands, was overwhelming. You wanted more. You wanted to see just how far he would go, how much he would allow before he broke.

You leaned into David, just a little more, just enough to make Zayne feel that need, that yearning that was slipping out of him despite all his efforts to remain unmoved. You couldn’t stop now. You wanted to see him crack. You wanted to see just how far you could push him before the walls he’d built came crashing down.

"I think Zaynie’s getting jealous,” you whispered to David, your voice laced with light, playful amusement. You flashed a smile, all mischief and challenge, turning toward David as you leaned in a little closer, just enough to make your presence undeniable. Every word was a calculated move in the game you were playing, each glance and touch designed to draw Zayne’s attention even more.

David, clearly oblivious to the simmering tension, grinned wide, his casual demeanor making him seem even more disconnected from the storm brewing across the room. "I don’t see why he’d be. You’re just having fun."

“Exactly,” you said, leaning just a little further into the moment, letting your hand brush against David’s chest with a soft, deliberate touch. You could almost feel Zayne’s gaze on you now, like a physical weight pressing down on your skin, even from across the room. It was a tension that sparked in the air between you and him—something electric, something dangerous. A storm was building, waiting to burst. And you were the one holding the spark that would ignite it.

That was when you saw it.

Zayne’s eyes were no longer the calm, unreadable gaze you had come to expect. They were wild now—flickering with something raw and almost desperate. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his drink, the motion stiff, as though he were trying to ground himself. But you could see the blood draining from his face, the subtle clench in his jaw, the way his whole body was taut with restraint. He wasn’t calm anymore. Not the composed, cool Zayne who always seemed so untouchable. This Zayne was real. And that… that was what you had been waiting for.

And more than anything, it made your heart race.

You couldn’t resist. You needed to push him further, to test just how far you could make him crack. "Zayne," you called, your voice sugary sweet, dripping with mockery, just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough to leave a hint of challenge in the air. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His gaze snapped to you immediately. You could feel the tension shift in the room, all eyes momentarily drawn to the subtle but undeniable pull between you and him. But it wasn’t just his eyes that spoke—it was everything. The way his hands clenched and unclenched around the glass, his knuckles whitening, his body still as if every inch of him was holding back from breaking. You could practically hear the internal war raging inside of him. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. He didn’t even move.

Zayne was holding himself back. And that, more than anything, was exactly what you had been waiting for. The struggle. The pain of it. His silence only fed the fire in you. You knew how badly he wanted to say something, to confront you, to do something, but he couldn’t. Not yet. And you were going to make sure it stayed that way.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, your voice turning colder now, laced with a bit of dismissive amusement. You stepped closer to David, your fingers grazing the edge of his jacket with slow, deliberate care. The fabric felt smooth under your fingertips, almost like a challenge in itself. You could feel Zayne’s gaze following you now, intense, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to feel it. Every second of it.

“I’m just enjoying the night,” you continued, your words dripping with nonchalance. “Nothing more.”

You said it so casually, you were enjoying the night—he wasn’t. You could see it in the way his body was practically vibrating with the need to move, to say something, to stop you. And that, more than anything, was the victory. You had him on the edge, and you were going to keep him there.

Zayne’s fists tightened at his sides, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. It was a small, involuntary movement, but it spoke volumes—the tension, the growing agitation beneath his composed exterior. You could feel the shift, the subtle change in the atmosphere as his usually unreadable expression began to betray something darker. Something more dangerous.

Then, it happened. You saw it in his eyes—the flicker of something raw and predatory, something that you hadn’t expected to see from him. His usual mask, the one he wore with such effortless control, was slipping. Just a crack at first, but it was enough. You knew it was over.

Before you could even fully process the change, Zayne was standing in front of you, his movements sharp and quick, his presence overwhelming. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an ironclad hold that left no room for escape. His eyes locked onto yours, wild and unblinking, the intensity of his gaze enough to freeze you in place. His face, usually composed, was flushed with emotion. But it wasn’t just anger you saw—it was something darker. Something that made your blood run cold. It was an obsession.

“You think you can do this to me?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but it carried a weight to it—something dangerous, something that sent a chill straight to your core. “You think you can make me watch you with other men, laugh with them like you’re laughing with me? You think I won’t feel anything?”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. This wasn’t the Zayne you knew. This wasn’t the calm, controlled man you had been toying with all this time. This was someone different, someone raw and unrecognizable. And in that moment, you realized—it wasn’t just a game anymore. This was something you had created. You had pushed him past the point of no return, and now you were dealing with the consequences.

Before you could even form a response, Zayne’s grip on your wrist tightened, dragging you forward with a force you couldn’t resist. His movements were desperate, his urgency palpable as he pulled you out of the room. The hallway was dark and silent, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions playing out between you. His fingers dug into your skin with an almost painful intensity, but you didn’t dare pull away.

“You wanted me to break,” Zayne hissed, his voice trembling, barely contained by a thread of restraint. The words were thick with something raw, something dangerous that you had no control over. “You wanted me to feel this. Now look at what you’ve done.”

Your mind raced, but your body was trapped—frozen by his presence, by the sheer force of his will. You wanted to reason with him, to make him see that this wasn’t what you had intended, but the words died in your throat. The look in his eyes told you there was no room for reason now. He wasn’t the same man you’d been playing with. He was beyond your control.

“Zayne, I didn’t mean it—” you tried to speak, but his eyes only darkened further, the fire in them burning brighter.

“You think you can leave now?” His voice dropped to a low growl, laced with venom. It was barely a whisper, but it was filled with something more threatening than any shout. “You belong to me. You’ll never leave. Not now.”

The weight of his words slammed into you like a freight train. Your breath caught in your throat, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This was no longer just about the game, the fun of pushing boundaries. You had awakened something in him—something obsessive, something primal—and now, there was no turning back. You were trapped, caught in the snare you had set for him, and there was no escape.

“No,” you protested weakly, your voice barely more than a breath, but it was futile. His grip tightened, an unyielding force that left no room for resistance.

Zayne dragged you down the hallway, his steps urgent, as though he knew he had no time to waste. The door to the apartment clicked shut behind you, and the sound of the lock twisting into place echoed in the silence.

“You wanted me to break,” Zayne whispered again, his voice thick with a mix of rage and something else—something dark, something needy. “Now you’re going to stay. You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the panic rising with every breath you took. You had pushed him, manipulated him, and now, you were the one at his mercy. He was no longer the composed figure you could toy with. He was something more dangerous, and you had no idea how to stop it.

Zayne paced in front of you, his hands twitching, as though struggling to contain the storm inside him. “I gave you everything,” he murmured quietly, his voice low, filled with something unsettling. “And now, you’re mine. Forever.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a dark promise you couldn’t escape. You wanted to protest, wanted to scream, but the look in his eyes—the wild intensity, the unshakable determination—told you it was pointless. You could see the finality in his gaze. He had made up his mind. You were trapped now, and the game was over.

“You belong to me,” Zayne whispered, stepping closer, his fingers curling around your wrist once more. His grip was firm, like a physical reminder of his hold over you.

Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. You had pushed too far. You had awakened something in him that you couldn’t control anymore. And now, you were going to pay the price.

Zayne’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something almost tender before they hardened once more. The possessiveness was unmistakable now. “You’ll never leave me,” he said, his voice steady, full of finality. “Not now. You’ll stay with me, and I’ll make sure of it.”

And in that moment, you knew that the game had ended. You had crossed a line, and now you were paying the price.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

I wanna write for zayne so please give me some requests (I'll write for the other guys too)

[d0ctorstea]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲▶ when he realizes he's in love リヴァイ

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ when he realize that he caught the feels for you

in which levi ackerman begins to realize he has feelings for you as he notices how your presence affects him in ways he can’t ignore. though he initially dismisses these feelings. despite his efforts to stay detached, he can’t shake the way his thoughts linger on you.

──── levi ackerman x gn soldier! r ╱ ⌕ friends2???, fluff ∿ w. unethical relationship (captain x subordinate) , romantic relationship , unestablished relationship , mutual pinning , confession , ending pretty vague , not proofread wc. 6.9k (6,946) ｡ ｡ a part of the relationship points event by @nursedflowers I'm going to be honest, I almost forgot about this 😅

☆ 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 long and grueling day. The wind bit at their skin, sharp and unforgiving, as they trudged through the snow, each step heavier than the last. The sky above was a cold, featureless gray, and the ground beneath their boots seemed to stretch endlessly, a barren wasteland of frozen white. The journey back to headquarters felt like an eternity, the weariness from the day's labor settling deep in their bones, making every movement feel like an effort.

The mission itself had been uneventful—thankfully—but that didn’t seem to offer the relief Levi had hoped for. His thoughts were clouded, a dull ache growing in the back of his mind, persistent and nagging. It wasn’t the threat of Titans that gnawed at him, nor the crushing weight of the mission itself. He had faced far worse. No, it was something else, something intangible, but all the more powerful for it. Something he couldn’t quite place, but felt so strongly it threatened to drown out everything else. It was you.

You, who had lingered in his thoughts far longer than he cared to admit. The way you’d looked at him before he left, your words, your silence, the way your presence seemed to unsettle him in ways he couldn’t explain. There was no immediate danger, no obvious reason for the unease that settled in his chest, but he could feel it creeping in like the cold wind that whipped through his cloak. The thought of you was like a whisper in the back of his mind, pulling at him, teasing his focus away from the world around him.

With each step, it grew stronger, a strange, unsettling mix of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t used to this feeling, this vulnerability, but he couldn’t ignore it. It was as if you had somehow found a way into his thoughts, weaving your presence through the cracks in his carefully maintained walls, and now, he couldn’t seem to shake you off.

The distant silhouette of headquarters finally came into view, but it felt distant, somehow. The thought of stepping into that familiar building, to find some semblance of normalcy, did little to ease the gnawing sensation in his gut. Because, even with the mission over and the threat behind him, the only thing that truly weighed on him now—was you.

Levi had always prided himself on his ability to observe, to stay one step ahead. It was a skill that had been honed over years of battle, training, and leadership. As captain, he couldn’t afford to be anything less than vigilant, constantly aware of the smallest details around him, ever on the lookout for potential threats. It was second nature to him now, this ability to distance himself, to remain unaffected by distractions while keeping a sharp eye on the world around him. His focus was always on the mission, always on the next move, never allowing anything to cloud his judgment.

But recently, something had shifted, a subtle change he couldn’t quite place, though he’d been trying to ignore it. It wasn’t a dramatic alteration in his behavior, but it was enough for him to notice. He found himself pausing longer than necessary when he observed you, watching the way you moved, the way you spoke. The way your presence seemed to fill a space in a way that felt... different. He caught himself looking at you more often than he intended, the sharpness of his gaze lingering, as though something in the way you carried yourself sparked his attention in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

It wasn’t like him to dwell on these things. Levi was no fool, and he knew better than to let his mind wander into areas of uncertainty or weakness. Yet, during the rare quiet moments between missions, when the tension of the day finally ebbed away and there was nothing but the sound of his own breath and the distant murmurs of the others, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you.

At first, he had chalked it up to simple curiosity. You were, after all, someone who was constantly by his side, a part of the Survey Corps in a way that made it impossible for him not to notice your actions. But the more he tried to push it aside, the more persistent the thoughts became. It was the smallest things that seemed to linger in his mind: the way your eyes sparkled with determination, the soft sound of your voice when you spoke with others, the subtle, almost imperceptible way you held yourself, as though you were always ready for whatever came next.

He would catch himself in the rare quiet moments, his mind wandering back to the things he hadn’t noticed before. Your smile, the way you handled a weapon with an ease that matched his own, your unwavering focus in the heat of battle. It was almost unsettling, this shift in attention, and despite his best efforts to remain unaffected, Levi couldn’t help but wonder why his gaze seemed to gravitate toward you with such frequency.

He hated how these thoughts were beginning to feel like an intrusion, pulling his mind away from what he should be focusing on. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not with the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, no matter how many times he told himself it was nothing, Levi couldn’t escape the feeling that something—someone—had begun to occupy a place in his mind in a way he hadn’t expected, a place that wasn’t as easily shaken as he’d hoped. And for the first time in a long time, it unsettled him.

At first, it had been easy to dismiss. A fleeting thought, a passing observation that barely registered in his mind. He had his work, his responsibilities, and so much to focus on. It was nothing to concern himself with, he told himself. Just another one of those small distractions that came and went without consequence. The way you held yourself, quiet yet resolute, never demanding attention but somehow always commanding it. It was a trait he’d noticed in passing, but nothing more. After all, he had seen many soldiers come and go, all of them strong in their own right. And you were no different, right?

But as time wore on, something started to shift. What had once been an inconsequential observation began to grow in his mind, like a seed planted in fertile soil, slowly pushing its way upward, forcing his thoughts to follow its path. Those fleeting moments, those glances he’d caught—at first, so innocent—began to feel heavier. The pull of his attention toward you became undeniable. It wasn’t just that you were strong, or that you handled yourself with the same precision and skill as any seasoned fighter. It wasn’t just the way you never hesitated when faced with danger, never flinching when others might.

No, it was something more, something beneath the surface. And try as he might to push it aside, Levi couldn’t ignore it anymore. The quiet strength you exuded had always caught his attention, but lately, there was a sharpness to it that was impossible to overlook. It was in the way you moved, with a purpose that was almost tangible, like every step you took was in service of something larger than yourself. In the way your gaze never wavered, even in the heat of battle, as though you saw the world differently, understood it in a way that few did.

He had always respected that in you, admired it from a distance, but now… now there was something more. It wasn’t just the way you fought or your fearlessness. It was how it seemed to define you in ways that went beyond the battlefield. How, despite the violence and chaos surrounding the Corps, you had this quiet, unwavering composure, a peace amidst the storm. It made him wonder about you. Made him wonder why you were the way you were.

But there was something else, something more subtle, that had begun to weave its way into his thoughts. It wasn’t just that you were strong, or that you were capable. No, what truly drew him in was how, lately, it seemed like that strength had shifted. There was a softness to it now, something he couldn’t quite place—something vulnerable hiding behind the hardened exterior you wore so well. It was in the moments when you didn’t realize anyone was watching, when your guard slipped for a fraction of a second, and he could catch a glimpse of something deeper, something raw. The quiet look in your eyes after a long day, the way your shoulders seemed to slump just a little when you thought no one was around.

It unsettled him. This shift, this new layer to you that he hadn’t quite seen before. And no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind from wandering, to focus on the next mission, the next move, it clung to him, like a thread that he couldn’t pull free of. You had always been a soldier, yes. But lately, it was as though you were something more than that—and it was something he didn’t quite understand, something that left him questioning himself in ways he hadn’t before.

It wasn’t immediately obvious. At first, Levi convinced himself that it was nothing—just a rough patch, a temporary lapse. But deep down, he knew something wasn’t right. It took him longer than it should have to pinpoint the subtle shift. He wasn’t one to miss things; he was too trained, too observant for that. Yet, even for him, the changes were small at first, slipping beneath the surface in ways that were easy to ignore.

It started with the smallest things. You, who had always been so quick with a smile, seemed to wear it less and less. That familiar warmth he’d once seen in your eyes when you spoke, the quiet confidence that had always radiated from you started to dim. Your smile, when it did appear, no longer reached your eyes. It was as if the spark within you had dulled, buried beneath an invisible weight. And then there was your posture, once straight and unyielding, now just a little slouched, a subtle shift that told him something was wrong.

Your fire, that quiet, unshakable intensity that had always made you stand out, seemed to flicker out. Where once you had faced everything head-on, unwavering in your determination, now you seemed… distracted. As though something, some invisible force, was eating away at you from the inside, slowly sapping the strength that had once defined you.

Levi watched as these changes continued to unfold. It wasn’t just your outward appearance. It was the way you carried yourself, the way you moved through the day. In meetings, your usual sharp focus seemed to falter. During briefings, you would zone out, staring off into the distance, as if lost in some place far removed from the present moment. Your thoughts were somewhere else entirely, and it was as though you couldn’t quite pull yourself back to reality, no matter how hard you tried.

Then came the more noticeable things: the tremble in your hands when you gripped your gear, the way your fingers clenched tightly, as though the act of holding onto something solid was the only thing keeping you grounded. The once meticulous way you carried yourself, prepared for everything, now seemed absent. You seemed to always be a step behind, trailing behind the others in the most mundane of ways—at meals, for example, you would pick at your food, moving it around your plate without ever truly eating. And on days when you seemed particularly distant, you would skip meals altogether, as if even the basic needs of your body had become a burden.

It wasn’t just physical, either. Your attention—your sharp, unwavering attention—was scattered. No longer did you give your full focus to the task at hand, your mind always drifting elsewhere. Your once-steady gaze would slip away in the middle of conversations, as though something far more pressing was taking hold of your thoughts. It was like you were caught in some unseen battle, one that no one else could see, fighting battles that no one else could understand.

And the more he observed, the more unsettling it became. It bothered him more than it should have. He wasn’t one to get involved in others’ problems, especially not when they had nothing to do with the mission. He kept his distance, prided himself on not letting the personal struggles of others distract him from the work. But this was different. This felt different. The way you slowly drifted further away from him and the others, the way the person he had known so well seemed to be slipping through his fingers was not something he could ignore. It wasn’t just your physical changes or the way your usual sharpness had dulled—it was the absence of the person he had once known, the person who had always been steady, unshakable.

There was something about your resolve, once so steadfast, seemed to falter, like a crack forming in a once-solid wall. It gnawed at him, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He found himself thinking about you more, wondering what was going on inside your head, wondering why you were pulling away. He didn’t understand it, but it bothered him. And for someone like Levi, who preferred to keep his distance from the emotional turmoil of others, this was new territory. Territory he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Levi prided himself on keeping his emotions buried deep within himself, on maintaining a distance from everyone and everything. It was a practice he had perfected over the years, a wall of indifference that served as his armor against a world that took everything from you without hesitation. To care about anyone, to let someone close enough to matter, was to leave yourself exposed, vulnerable to the inevitable heartbreak and loss that would follow. He had learned this lesson the hard way, and so, he kept his emotions locked away, out of reach. That was the way he had survived, the only way that made sense in a world as unforgiving as this.

But with you, everything changed. It was as though the walls he had built, so carefully and deliberately over the years, were made of sand, and every time he was near you, they eroded just a little more. No matter how hard he tried to maintain the distance between you, it felt impossible. Every time he saw you, every time his gaze lingered on you even for a moment, it was like an invisible thread pulled at him, tightening around his chest. He couldn't focus on anything else. His thoughts, no matter how much he tried to control them, inevitably returned to you, to that quiet sadness in your eyes that haunted him.

He told himself it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his place to get involved in your life, to dig into the things you carried in silence. After all, he had enough to deal with on his own, didn’t he? He had enough responsibilities, enough burdens to shoulder. He didn’t have time to play the role of a savior to ask questions that might open doors to pain and suffering he wasn’t prepared to handle. Yet, every time he saw you withdraw further, every time that flicker of sorrow passed through your eyes, something inside him snapped. He tried to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t his business, but the more he tried to shut it out, the more it consumed him. It gnawed at him until he couldn’t think of anything else until it felt like his every thought was tethered to you.

The harder he tried to focus on his duties, the more you occupied his mind. He couldn’t escape the image of you—the way you always seemed just on the edge of breaking the way you smiled, but it never quite reached your eyes. There was something in the way you carried yourself that made him want to know more, to understand what you were hiding, what you were running from. It wasn’t his place, he reminded himself, but it didn’t stop him from wondering. It didn’t stop him from wanting to reach out, even when every instinct told him to pull away, to protect himself from the danger of becoming entangled in something he didn’t know how to handle.

But no matter how much he told himself it wasn’t his business, it didn’t make it any easier to ignore the growing ache inside him every time you were near. It was as if you were calling to him, pulling him toward you without saying a word. The more he tried to avoid you, the more he found himself thinking of you at the most inopportune times, his mind wandering in a direction he knew was dangerous. He couldn’t explain it. It was a feeling that ran deeper than logic, deeper than reason. You weren’t just another responsibility to him, not another face in the crowd. There was something about you, something he couldn’t shake.

Levi wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to caring, at least not in this way. He wasn’t used to being concerned about someone else’s well-being, especially not to the degree that it unsettled him so deeply. He had spent his entire life keeping people at a distance, telling himself that to care was to risk losing everything. He had seen it happen too many times before. He had lost too many people to be foolish enough to make the same mistake again. But with you, none of that mattered. With you, everything felt different.

But even as he felt that pull, even as his heart ached with the desire to help, there was a fear that gripped him. The more he tried to keep his distance, the more it felt like you were slipping through his fingers, like he was losing his grip on something he didn’t know how to hold on to. He had always prided himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but with you, it was as though all of that was slowly slipping away. And that terrified him more than anything else.

In the end, he wasn’t sure what frightened him more: the thought of getting closer to you, of offering you the help you might never ask for, or the fear that if he didn’t, he might lose something—something important—that he hadn’t even realized he wanted.

That evening, as the soldiers unwound in the mess hall, Levi sat near the far wall, his back straight and his eyes sharp, scanning the room with the kind of practiced detachment only years of experience could foster. His gaze swept over the group, assessing every face, every movement, even as he tried to blend into the background. The dim light from the overhead lamps cast long, heavy shadows across the room, softening the otherwise harsh atmosphere of the day. It was a strange contrast—this light, which usually served to highlight the sharp edges of their world, now managed to temper the tension that clung to everyone’s shoulders.

Laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a hum of energy that felt both alien and familiar. The others seemed to forget, if only for a moment, the weight of their daily lives. Some were gathered in small, animated clusters, their voices rising in unrestrained excitement over some private joke or a shared memory. Others sat side by side, heads thrown back in shared amusement, allowing themselves the luxury of a temporary reprieve from the constant threat of danger that loomed over them all. For a few fleeting minutes, they seemed human again, their tired faces softened by the warmth of companionship, by the simplest of pleasures: the joy of being together, of surviving another day.

But not you. You sat by yourself, perched on the edge of your seat like an observer at a scene you weren’t sure you belonged to. Your head was lowered, your eyes distant, fixed on the half-eaten meal in front of you. Your fork absentmindedly moved through the food on your plate, stirring it around without actually eating it, as if lost in some internal world that no one could access. The soft clatter of forks and knives against plates seemed like an echo from another world, distant and muffled, as the rest of the soldiers continued their carefree conversations.

It was as though you existed in a space apart from them, one where the noise, the laughter, and the warmth of companionship couldn’t quite reach. The weight of your thoughts, the unspoken burdens of your own mind, pressed down on you harder than any physical exhaustion ever could. The space around you seemed to grow thicker, darker, more isolated with every passing moment, as if the room itself were unwilling to let you in. You weren’t sure if it was something you had built for yourself, or if it was something that had been thrust upon you long ago, but either way, you were alone here. And despite the laughter filling the room, despite the camaraderie of your comrades, you couldn’t shake the sense that you always would be.

Levi’s gaze shifted back to you, and for the thousandth time that day, something stirred deep within him. It wasn’t a sensation he liked, nor one he often allowed himself to acknowledge, but it was there nonetheless—an uncomfortable stirring, like a knot slowly tightening in the pit of his stomach. His eyes narrowed slightly as he observed you again, the subtle way your fingers moved over your plate, poking at the food without ever lifting the utensils to your lips. You were going through the motions, but there was no real intention behind it, no real engagement. And that, in itself, was enough to grab his attention.

He had seen this behavior before—soldiers who had become hollow shells of themselves, who lost themselves in the grind of their duties. They went through the motions, eating, sleeping, moving, all without truly participating in life. He’d seen the same patterns in many of the men and women under his command. They carried their burdens in silence, their minds and hearts weighed down by the pressure of the unending war, afraid of what might happen if they let go for even a second, afraid of what would happen if they showed weakness. The walls of indifference they built around themselves became thicker with each passing day, until they were invisible even to their closest comrades. And inside those walls, they quietly crumbled, their spirits breaking while they put on the mask of "fine."

Levi had never let himself fall victim to that kind of despair. He had learned long ago how to bury everything so deep within himself that it didn’t matter anymore. His emotions, his doubts, his fears—they were all locked away, hidden from the world. It was easier that way, safer. If you buried it all, then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But you… you were different.

There was something about the way you carried yourself, the way you withdrew into yourself, that caught his attention in a way he hadn’t expected. You weren’t hiding it behind walls of indifference. No, it was much quieter than that. Your pain wasn’t so easily concealed. You didn’t wear it as a badge of honor like others did. You just carried it with you, quietly, as if trying to protect everyone around you from it, from whatever darkness you were facing. But Levi could see it. He could see the way you slowly seemed to wither away, how your once-bright spark had dimmed over time.

It bothered him more than it should have. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel the weight of your suffering pressing against his own chest. But he couldn’t stop noticing it. Something had shifted within you recently, something that made it harder for him to ignore. You weren’t the same, and it was like a silent crack in the foundation of everything he had known. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t. But for some reason, it gnawed at him, this need to know what was happening to you, to figure out why you seemed so broken in a way that even he couldn’t fix.

Levi stood up from the table, the movement deliberate but quiet, a subtle shift in the stillness of the mess hall. His boots made a soft clink against the floor as he crossed the room, the sound strangely amplified in the otherwise hushed space. It was the kind of sound that should have been insignificant, yet in that moment, it felt louder than it had any right to. The soft tap of his boots echoed in his ears as he moved, and he almost found it unsettling. It was as though the noise carried more weight than he intended, a stark contrast to the calm he usually commanded in any room.

When he reached your table, he didn’t sit down. He simply stopped a few paces away, standing there with an air of quiet authority. For a moment, he said nothing, just watching you with those sharp eyes of his—eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He didn’t need to sit down to command attention, and he knew that. His presence alone was enough to draw your focus, as if you could feel the intensity of his gaze pressing down on you.

Leaning in slightly, he let his piercing eyes scan your face. He didn’t speak right away, allowing the silence to stretch between you, as if searching for some sign, some crack in your composure that would reveal what you were truly feeling. But there was nothing—nothing except the tightness around your eyes, the subtle trembling of your fingers as you moved the food on your plate. Levi’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit as he searched your face. There was something deeper here, something you weren’t showing.

"Something on your mind?" His voice was as blunt as ever, sharp and to the point, but there was an edge to it now—something more than his usual detached coldness. It was a question, yes, but it carried a weight, an urgency that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was something more… personal. His question hung in the air, a silent demand for an answer, the weight of his concern pressing down on both of you, palpable and undeniable.

You looked up at him, startled, as though his presence had pulled you out of some deep, hidden thought. For a brief second, your eyes widened in surprise, confusion flickering across your features. It was as if you hadn’t even realized he was standing there, like you’d been too lost in your own mind to notice the world around you. The moment passed, and then you quickly averted your gaze, your focus falling back on the empty space in front of you, avoiding his eyes as though the mere act of meeting them would make something break open inside you.

"I’m fine," you murmured, your voice light, almost dismissive, but Levi caught the hesitation in it. The subtle wavering between your words, the quiet vulnerability beneath the surface. It wasn’t convincing, and he knew it. He could read people far too well to buy the lie.

Levi didn’t believe it—not for a second. He never did. He studied you for a long moment, his sharp eyes never leaving your face. He watched how you fidgeted with the food, moving it around on your plate as though it were the most important thing in the world, but never actually eating it. The way you avoided his gaze, how your fingers trembled slightly, betraying a tension that was hard to ignore. There was something deeper here, something hidden just beneath the surface. And for reasons he couldn’t entirely grasp, it made him feel… uneasy.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way, not for anyone. Levi had trained himself to be unshakable, to keep his distance from everyone around him, to never let anyone’s troubles seep into his own. But you were different, and it bothered him more than it should have.

"You’re a terrible liar," he said after a moment, his lips curling into a small, wry smirk, but his eyes were hard, unrelenting. The words came out with a quiet force, not meant to mock, but to pierce. They carried the weight of someone who saw right through the front you were putting up, someone who wasn’t about to let you hide. It was a statement, not a judgment, but it still stung in its truth.

Your gaze flickered to his, just for a brief moment, and then quickly darted back to the table. It was the smallest of movements, but it told him everything he needed to know. You were retreating, closing off, trying to shield yourself from the weight of his attention, from the reality of what you were holding inside. You were putting up a wall, trying to protect what little you had left, but Levi could see it for what it was—a fragile barrier that wouldn’t last long.

But it didn’t work. Not on him. He wasn’t going to let you get away that easily.

"I’m not good at pretending," you admitted quietly, almost to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper, as if the confession was something you had been holding back for too long. There was no bravado in your words, no mask of indifference. Just a simple, raw truth that he couldn’t ignore. For a moment, Levi almost felt the smallest shift inside him—an almost imperceptible crack in his own composure. He hadn’t expected you to say that, hadn’t expected you to admit what he had already seen. And yet, somehow, it made things worse. The truth hung heavy between you now, unspoken but undeniable.

Levi didn’t know what to do with it. But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave you alone.

The brief silence that followed hung between you, thick with the weight of unspoken things, a palpable tension that neither of you knew how to navigate. Levi could see it now—the walls you were putting up, the subtle way you were closing yourself off from everything. It wasn’t just the way you avoided his gaze, or how you kept your movements so carefully controlled. It was something deeper, something more impenetrable. Maybe even from him. The realization stirred something sharp in his chest, an irritation that simmered quietly but burned brighter than he cared to admit. It irked him, more than it should’ve.

The last thing he needed was for someone else to pull away from him, to retreat into their own battles—battles that he couldn’t understand, battles he wasn’t even sure how to fight. He was used to carrying his own burdens alone, to shouldering the weight of everything in silence, without ever letting anyone in. But you… you weren’t supposed to be like this. Not in front of him. He wasn’t supposed to be just another figure standing on the outside, watching helplessly as you closed yourself off. He was supposed to be different, to at least be someone you could rely on, even in moments like this. But you weren’t letting him.

“You’ve been off lately,” he said, his voice still steady but laced with something else now—something softer, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them. It was no longer just an observation, no longer just a comment on your behavior. There was an edge to his voice now, a concern he hadn’t quite intended to reveal, but couldn’t suppress. He couldn’t hide it, not anymore. His gaze flickered to you, searching your face for some sign, some crack in the wall you’d built between you and him. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond right away. In fact, you seemed almost to shrink into yourself, your gaze still diverted. Levi noticed the subtle shift in your posture, the way your fingers tightened around your cup, the porcelain creaking under the pressure. Your knuckles went white, betraying your attempts at keeping everything together, as if the fragile barrier you had built around yourself was starting to crack under the strain. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as though each one took more effort than it should have.

And yet, despite every instinct telling him to let you be, to leave you to your own devices, Levi couldn’t just turn away. He couldn’t let it go—not when it felt like something deeper was unraveling just beneath the surface. He wanted to know what was wrong, wanted to understand the source of the heaviness in the air. The need to know felt like an ache, an unfamiliar weight in his chest, one he wasn’t prepared to confront but couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t want to burden anyone with it,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. There was an exhaustion in the way you spoke, a rawness that made his chest tighten, a vulnerability that he hadn’t expected to hear from you. It wasn’t just the words themselves, but the fragility in your tone, the admission that whatever this was, you were carrying it alone. “You have enough to deal with.”

The words hit him harder than he anticipated. They sank into him like a cold stone, churning his thoughts in ways he didn’t understand. He wasn’t good with people—he never had been. Comfort, sympathy, even empathy—those were things he’d always distanced himself from. He was too familiar with pain to want to carry anyone else’s. The idea of holding someone else’s grief, of trying to heal wounds he couldn’t even comprehend, had always felt impossible. Yet, there was something about the weight of your words, the quiet plea in your voice, that rattled him more than he was prepared for.

In that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t the kind of shift he was used to, the cold, calculated distance he had always maintained. It wasn’t something that made sense, and Levi hated how much it affected him. But the desire to see you stop carrying this alone, to make sure you didn’t have to bear this burden on your own… it felt undeniable. He didn’t want to let you keep pushing everyone away, not when he could see how much it was hurting you. And maybe that wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore.

“You’re not a burden,” Levi said, his voice quieter now, stripped of the usual hardness, replaced with something softer, more genuine than he had ever allowed himself to sound. The words weren’t just a reassurance, they were an invitation, a small but deliberate offer to break through the walls you’d built between the two of you. It was a side of him few had ever seen, the side that wasn’t wrapped in the layers of indifference, the part of him that still remembered how to care—how to connect, even when it felt like the most unnatural thing in the world.

For a moment, you stared at him, eyes wide with surprise, as if his words had cut through something you hadn’t expected. Your expression shifted then, flickering with disbelief, almost as if you couldn’t reconcile what you were hearing with the person you thought Levi was. You weren’t used to seeing this side of him, and honestly, neither was he. He had always kept people at arm’s length, distant and unaffected, but now... he wasn’t sure he could stay that way. Not with you. Not when something inside him was pulling him to stay, to be present.

He couldn’t quite understand it, this urge to offer something he didn’t know how to give. But in that moment, standing in front of you, watching the quiet storm in your eyes, he felt a strange certainty. For once, he wasn’t looking for an excuse to withdraw or to turn his back. He wasn’t looking for a reason to leave. He was looking for a reason to stay.

"I don’t know how to deal with this," you murmured, your voice barely audible but thick with emotion, weighted with an unspoken pain that hung in the air between you. The words landed with an uncomfortable thud, each one reverberating through the stillness of the room. "I didn’t want to get attached to anyone, especially you."

Levi’s chest tightened at your admission, the rawness of it striking him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He found himself frozen, caught between the words you had spoken and the flood of thoughts they triggered in him. He had always kept his distance, kept himself guarded. He’d spent years building walls, erecting barriers against any kind of attachment, any kind of vulnerability. Yet here you were, voicing the same fear, the same reluctance to allow someone else in. He knew exactly what you meant. He had been doing everything in his power to stay untouched, to remain unaffected, to make sure no one got too close. He wasn’t supposed to care, not about anyone, not about you.

But as those words fell from your lips, the truth of them hit him harder than anything else had in a long time. It was like a punch to the gut, a harsh reminder of how much had already shifted inside him, how much he had already allowed to slip through his carefully constructed defenses. The truth was, he had gotten attached to you—more than he ever thought possible, more than he ever meant to. And it settled over him, like a weight he hadn’t been prepared for, one that seemed to anchor itself in his chest, refusing to be ignored.

The realization hit him with the force of a storm, a quiet but undeniable force. He had noticed everything about you—the way you pushed yourself even when you were on the verge of breaking, the quiet strength you always carried despite everything, how you never let the world see the cracks. He’d watched you more times than he could count, each time feeling something stir within him, something he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he wanted to. But it was there, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. And the more he tried to bury it, the stronger that pull became. It terrified him, but it also made him feel something—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. But as you stood there, looking at him with those wide, searching eyes, he couldn’t deny it any longer. He did care. And it was too late to turn back now.

Levi swallowed hard, the lump in his throat almost choking him, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He felt the vulnerability creeping in, the rawness of the connection between you two threatening to expose him, to unravel the walls he’d so carefully built. He tried to push it down, tried to bury it like he always did, but it was already there, crawling into his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"I know," he muttered, the words soft, almost to himself. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t a declaration of anything. It was just a quiet acknowledgment of something neither of you had been willing to admit until now. The weight of those two simple words hung between you, a shared understanding that neither of you was prepared to handle.

You didn’t say anything in return. You just looked at him, your eyes searching his face for something—anything. It was as though you were trying to read him, trying to make sense of what had just happened, trying to find a way to make it all make sense. But Levi didn’t pull away. He didn’t retreat back into his usual cold, detached shell. He stayed there, his gaze unwavering, allowing the silence to stretch between you. Something new lingered in the air now, a fragile shift, a delicate thread of connection that neither of you knew how to navigate, but neither of you could deny.

Then, slowly, you stood up. Your movements were deliberate, slower than usual, like you were gathering the strength to leave. The tension between you had softened, but it hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, hanging in the space between you like a quiet promise, fragile and unspoken. The distance between you had closed, if only for a moment. Neither of you knew what it meant, or where it would lead. But something had changed. And that change lingered in the air, like a weight you both felt but couldn’t escape.

Levi watched you go, his heart heavier than he expected. He didn’t understand it, the strange pull in his chest as he saw you walk away, the quiet ache that had settled inside him. The realization of what had just passed between you was still too fresh, too new for him to fully comprehend. Something had shifted. Whether for better or for worse, he couldn’t say. But one thing was certain: he could no longer pretend that it didn’t matter. And perhaps, just perhaps, neither could you.

The silence that followed was different now—richer, more complicated. And for the first time in a long time, Levi wasn’t sure what came next. But he couldn’t look away from it. And he couldn’t turn back.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲▶ discharged リヴァイ

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ he finds himself unexpectedly falling for you

in which levi ackerman, accustomed to a life of duty and emotional detachment, starts to change when he's injured and cared for by a nurse. initially indifferent, he gradually grows fond of her quiet kindness and begins to desire more. as his walls break down, he struggles with the fear of revealing his inner scars, uncertain about this unexpected connection.

──── levi ackerman x nurse! r ╱ ⌕ acquaintance2friends, fluff ∿ w. unethical relationship (nurse x patient) , romantic relationship , unestablished relationship , mutual pinning , feminine terms used , levi having a crush , brief mention of despersion , not proofread wc. 8.6k (8,611) ｡ ｡ inspired by this post by @levisrations the amount of times I rewrote this should be illegal

☆ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 resigned himself to a life devoid of love. His world was one of duty and survival, where attachments were liabilities and emotions were weaknesses. But life, unpredictable as always, decided to challenge that belief in the most unexpected way. When he was confined to a hospital bed, broken and weary, you entered his life—not as a savior, but as a nurse assigned to care for him.

At first, Levi regarded you with indifference. You were efficient, professional, and kind, but he kept his walls firmly in place. He convinced himself that you were just doing your job, and he was just another patient in your care. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, something began to change.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment that shifted his perspective. It was the quiet moments: the way you patiently listened to his curt remarks without taking offense, the soft smile you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking, the way you treated him not as a soldier or a broken man but simply as Levi. Piece by piece, you slipped past his defenses, and he didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

For the first time in years, Levi found himself wanting something more. He looked forward to your presence in a way that unsettled him, and the thought of you not being there filled him with a strange, unfamiliar ache. But with that longing came fear—fear of letting you see the scars he had buried deep within. Not just the ones on his body, but the ones etched into his very soul.

Levi tried to suppress his feelings, convincing himself that you deserved better. Someone whole, someone unburdened by the weight of the past. He told himself he was protecting you, sparing you from the pain of being tethered to a man like him. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny the truth: you had become more than just a nurse to him.

Anyway, that plan didn’t work out. He wasn’t surprised; after all, things rarely went his way. Life had taught him that expecting anything more was a fool’s game. Still, he had hoped—foolishly, it seemed—that distancing himself from you would be enough to smother the feelings blooming in his chest. But it didn’t. If anything, his emotions only grew stronger with each passing day.

Hurray… What a cruel irony. Every time you walked into the room, every time your voice filled the air, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire he couldn’t extinguish. He wanted to hate it, to hate himself for feeling this way, but he couldn’t. You had become the one thing he couldn’t push away, no matter how hard he tried.

And it wasn’t just your kindness or your beauty that had undone him—it was the way you carried yourself, the way you looked at the world with such hope and grace. It was the way you treated him like he was something more than his scars, his past, or his title. You were so effortlessly… you. Bright, compassionate, full of life. You were everything he wasn’t—caring, gentle, and full of a light that seemed almost otherworldly. To him, you were the most gorgeous person he had ever met, not just in appearance but in spirit. And the more he dwelled on that, the more his hope diminished.

And he? He was just… him. A man burdened by too many failures, too many regrets, and too many scars to count. He felt like a shadow standing in the glow of your light. How could someone like you ever harbor love for someone like him? The thought was laughable, absurd even.

Levi clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at the ache blooming in his chest. This would hurt him, he was certain it would. There was no scenario where this ended with you looking at him the way he looked at you. No world where someone as extraordinary as you could ever fall for a man as broken as him.

And yet, despite the certainty of his own heartbreak, he couldn’t stop himself from caring. From wanting. From dreaming of the impossible, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You were a flame, and he was a moth doomed to burn. And somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.

In the quiet of his heart, a small, fragile hope begins to grow. Perhaps, just perhaps, you are the one person who can show him that even the most shattered souls are capable of love.

He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible in the quiet of his room, as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Once again, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you. This had been happening more frequently than he cared to admit, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, you always found your way into his thoughts.

Levi rubbed a hand over his face, as if the motion could wipe away the image of you that lingered in his mind. It was impossible, though. The memory of your kindness was seared into him. The way you spoke to him—not with pity, but with genuine care—was something he wasn’t used to. And that smile of yours… God, that smile. It was radiant, warm, and so effortlessly beautiful that it made his chest ache.

And your eyes. Those breathtaking eyes. They held a light he couldn’t quite describe, a spark that seemed to draw him in every time he was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse. He swore the world felt quieter when you looked at him, as if for that brief moment, nothing else existed but you. It was maddening how much power those fleeting glances had over him.

The more he thought about you, the deeper the ache in his chest grew. Because with every second spent imagining your laughter, your touch, your presence, he was also reminded of the harsh truth: someone like you could never feel the same way about someone like him. Levi wasn’t the type of man who inspired affection or love. He was stoic, scarred, and far too broken to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you.

Levi closed his eyes, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him like a lead blanket. It was a cruel torment, to be so utterly captivated by you while knowing his chances were as slim as the stars aligning. Yet, no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you. You had become his solace and his torment all at once—a beautiful dream that he could never truly hold.

It's not like it's impossible for you to feel the same…it's just that it's unlikely.

As if on cue, the door creaked open slowly, the sound breaking the silence and drawing his attention. His eyes shifted toward the doorway, where he caught sight of you peeking inside, your hand resting lightly on the frame. And then, with a smile that could rival the sun, you stepped fully into the room, your presence instantly filling the once-empty space with warmth.

Well, speak of the angel. His breath hitched slightly, though he masked it with a quiet exhale. “Y/n…” The name slipped from his lips in a hushed whisper, barely audible, almost as if it wasn’t meant to be heard. It was a reflex, really—an involuntary reaction to the sight of you. He would never admit it out loud, but seeing you again felt like the highlight of his day.

No, it was the highlight of his day. The hours leading up to this moment had been nothing short of agonizing. He knew you were busy tending to other patients, carrying out your duties, being your usual diligent self, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every second without you had dragged on painfully, each minute feeling like an eternity. He had spent the entire day counting down the time, his gaze flickering to the clock more often than he’d care to admit.

And now you were here, standing in front of him, your eyes bright and full of that familiar kindness that always seemed to soften the edges of his otherwise harsh reality. He tried to keep his expression neutral, to maintain the stoic facade he always wore, but deep down, he felt something stir—a quiet relief, a sense of peace that only your presence seemed to bring.

If he were honest with himself, painfully, brutally honest, he’d admit that he wished you didn’t have to divide your attention among others. The selfish part of him (one he didn’t even know existed until you came along) wanted you all to himself. He wanted your care, your time, your smile to be for him and him alone. The thought was absurd, he knew that. But it lingered all the same, persistent and unshakable.

Still, Levi kept those thoughts buried, tucked away where they couldn’t betray him. Instead, he simply watched you, his gray eyes following your every movement as you approached him. The day had been long, but now that you were here, he could finally breathe a little easier—even if he’d never tell you just how much your presence meant to him.

His gaze instinctively roamed over you, taking in every detail as if committing you to memory. From the way your hair frames your face to the way you carried yourself, everything about you seemed to radiate a kind of effortless charm that left him momentarily breathless. Before he realized it, a faint smile crept onto his lips, one so small it was almost imperceptible. It was rare for him to smile at all, but with you, it felt… natural.

Of course, his fleeting expression went unnoticed. You were too busy looking at him with that warm, familiar gaze of yours, the one that seemed to reach straight into his chest and wrap around his heart. Your smile, soft yet dazzling, pulled him in further, like a tether he couldn’t escape—and didn’t want to.

His steel-gray eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, unconsciously softened as they locked onto you. The tension he carried in his shoulders eased, his hardened exterior melting away, if only for a moment. It wasn’t something he could control; it was simply the effect you had on him.

What a sight for sore eyes… The thought drifted through his mind unbidden, and for once, he didn’t try to push it away. It was true, after all. You were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise suffocating monotony of his days. Your presence was a balm, soothing the edges of his often jagged world. He realized that he could spend an eternity in your presence and still not grow tired of the sight.

“I got some good news,” you started excitedly as you made your way closer to his bed, the sound of your voice full of joy. You leaned even closer, your face now so near his that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a subtle but telling reaction to your proximity.

“Go on,” Levi encouraged, his voice low and calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he awaited the news.

You beamed, unable to hold back your excitement. “You're getting discharged tomorrow! Isn't that great?”

At first, Levi’s expression softened into what seemed to be a small, content smile, but it faded almost instantly, replaced by a frown that tugged at his features. His gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously twitching against the bedsheet. Great? How is this great? The word felt almost alien in his mind, a stark contrast to the wave of uncertainty that washed over him. Tomorrow, he would be free to leave the sterile walls of the hospital, but that meant he'd have to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to see you every day, to hear your voice or feel the warmth of your presence beside him.

The thought gnawed at him. Even though he was supposed to feel relief, there was a knot of unease tightening in his chest. “I… guess it’s good,” Levi muttered, his tone laced with a complexity that didn’t quite match the excitement you had shown.

You noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor. Your heart sank, but you quickly masked the concern on your face with a smile, trying to cheer him up. “Hey, you’re finally getting out of here. It’s something to be happy about, right?”

As much as Levi wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t want to leave just yet. Not until he found the courage to tell you how he truly felt, a confession he’d buried deep down for far too long. He’d been planning to speak up for ages, but the right moment never seemed to come. And now, here it was: he was being discharged tomorrow, and it felt like his world was about to shift in a way he wasn’t ready for. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind, not without at least saying something.

In a panic, his mind scrambled for a reason, any reason, to delay his release. He didn’t care if it was silly or unreasonable. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave yet. Maybe he could convince them to keep him here for a little longer, maybe even longer than that. Anything to stall for time.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice wavering for the first time in a long while. He paused, struggling to come up with the right words, but the silence only amplified the urgency in his mind. “I can’t walk with this…” His gaze fell heavily on his leg, his eyes momentarily losing focus as if the sight of it somehow made him feel even more trapped by his own hesitation. His leg was still wrapped in bandages, the healing process a reminder of the physical limitations that had left him stuck in the hospital for what felt like forever.

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you, before something inside you clicked. And then, it hit you: you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You couldn’t help it; a burst of laughter escaped your lips, light and carefree, as the absurdity of the moment struck you. The tension that had been building inside you melted away as you giggled, shaking your head in disbelief.

Levi’s eyes widened, a mix of confusion and annoyance flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected you to laugh, especially not at a time like this. “What?” he muttered, clearly not understanding why you were laughing at his predicament.

You managed to calm yourself down, though a few soft chuckles still slipped out. Wiping your eyes, you met his gaze again, your words carrying the remnants of your amusement. “Don’t worry about that,” you said, your voice light with affection, “we have a wheelchair for that.”

The realization hit him with a jolt, and he cursed inwardly. He had almost forgotten about the advances in Marley’s medical technology. In this world, they had more than just crutches or walkers—they had efficient, well-designed wheelchairs that would make his current condition nothing more than a slight inconvenience. That was his whole excuse, shattered in an instant.

Levi’s head dropped, and he exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to think of something else that could give him a little more time. But the truth was, there wasn’t much he could do to hold on any longer. He was trapped by his own thoughts, by the ticking clock and the weight of his unspoken feelings.

"I'll leave you to get some rest."

Your voice sliced through the haze of his thoughts like a soft breeze, stirring him from the swirling confusion in his mind. Levi’s heart skipped a beat at your words, his mouth opening slightly as if he had something important to say. He was about to call out to you, to ask you to stay just a little longer, to hold on to this fragile moment before you disappeared from his reach. But the words caught in his throat, and by the time he managed to look up, the door was already closing behind you. The soft click of it sealing shut was like the final nail in the coffin, the sound marking the moment when he knew he had missed his chance.

Damn it.

He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he turned his head to rest against the pillow. His mind raced with all the things he should have said, all the things he had wanted to say, but now it was too late. He was left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret. Why had he hesitated? Why hadn’t he just told you?

As he closed his eyes, the thoughts continued to spiral through his mind like a never-ending storm. What would have happened if he had confessed how he truly felt? Would you have looked at him with surprise, maybe even a smile, and confessed that you felt the same way? Or would you have rejected him outright, laughed at the idea that someone like him could ever be worthy of your affection?

The thought stung, but as he considered it, Levi found himself dismissing it almost immediately. You were too kind, too understanding, to ever treat him that way. You wouldn’t laugh at him. You wouldn’t ridicule him. He couldn’t see you doing that. Yet still, doubt gnawed at him, eating away at the edges of his resolve. The uncertainty lingered in the air, the question unanswered, and it left a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Levi tried to push the storm of thoughts away, as if somehow doing so would help him sleep. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to relax, to let go of the tension that had built up inside of him over the course of the day. But even as he breathed in, exhaling slowly, his mind refused to settle. The image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and the unspoken words between you lingered in the quiet room.

What would have happened if he had taken the chance? Would everything be different now?

Before Levi knew it, the sun had risen, its golden rays filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow across the room. He turned his head, squinting as the light hit his eyes. The warmth of it was almost too much, so he closed his eyes tightly and turned away, burying his face into the cool pillow. The light of the new day seemed to mock him, reminding him that time was slipping away. He hadn't slept a wink all night, the relentless swirl of thoughts keeping him awake as they so often did. But this time, the thoughts were different. This time, they were filled with the image of you—the pretty nurse who had become far too important to him over the past few months.

Today was likely the last time he’d see you.

The realization hit him like a weight, and it sunk deep into his chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so hard to say goodbye, but now that it was happening, the thought was almost unbearable. How many more times could he frown today? How many more times could he allow himself to be disappointed by his own inability to act? Levi felt a dull ache form in his heart as he turned away from the sun's light. There was nothing he could do about it now. You’d be gone from his life soon enough, and he would be left with nothing but memories and regret.

The soft sound of the door opening broke him from his spiral, and he didn’t even bother to turn his head. It was strange, really—this was probably the first time in a long while that he didn’t want to see you. He had grown accustomed to your presence, to the way your voice would brighten the sterile, dull atmosphere of the hospital. But now? Now, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, even if they were nothing but a tangle of regret and longing.

"Mr. Ackerman? Are you awake?"

Your voice was quiet, tentative, like you were trying not to disturb him, but it was impossible to ignore. Despite himself, he turned over in bed to face you, his eyes settling on your figure standing in the doorway. He let out a small, frustrated sigh, his gaze fixed on you. Might as well burn your image into his brain, because it seemed like that was the only way he’d be able to remember you after today.

Damn you. Damn you for worming your way so deeply into his life, making him feel things he never wanted to feel. For making him care. For making him think, even for a moment, that he could have something real.

Yet, even as the frustration swirled inside of him, Levi had to admit—he couldn't deny the truth. These past few months, with you by his side, had been strangely peaceful. The quiet moments spent together, the way you always seemed to understand what he needed without him ever having to say a word. Those months had given him a kind of comfort he didn’t know he could have, a sense of calm that had been sorely missing from his life for far too long.

But now, it is all about to end. And he hated it.

"We're nearly done," you said, your voice carrying the usual warmth, but to Levi, it felt like a distant echo. What a shame, he thought, the words almost tasting bitter on his tongue. You were finishing up, preparing him for the inevitable departure, and all he could do was watch you speak.

“Make sure to properly…” you continued, but his mind had already wandered. His eyes were fixed on your lips as you spoke, and despite himself, Levi couldn't help but wish that you’d kiss him. The thought of your lips against his, even just for a fleeting moment, consumed him, but he quickly pushed the longing away. It was pointless. You were leaving, and nothing could change that.

“...You understand?” You finished with a soft smile, your gaze expectant, waiting for his response.

“Of course.” The words slipped from his mouth, sharper than he intended, a little too cold, a little too distant. It didn’t matter, though. You didn’t seem to notice or, at least, didn’t seem to mind.

You gave a small nod before heading out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts. Levi barely registered the sound of your footsteps retreating, already lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He didn’t have enough time to miss you, though. You were back before he knew it, a wheelchair and some papers in hand, the small routine task pulling him out of his stupor.

He didn’t say a word when it was time to sign the papers, nor when you helped him into the wheelchair, the movements were automatic. His mind was elsewhere, still tangled in the mess of words he never said and feelings he couldn’t express. You noticed his silence but chose not to say anything. You had always seen Levi as someone who didn’t like talking about his feelings. It wasn’t in his nature to share, to be open, and you knew better than to push him.

You signed the papers without hesitation, before gently pushing the wheelchair out of the room. “A man named ‘Onyankopon’ is waiting for you. He’ll take you home,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

Levi didn’t respond with anything more than a dismissive “Tch.” He didn’t want to deal with this, didn’t want to think about the fact that you were finally leaving him behind. But you didn’t press him, and you didn’t try to pull more out of him. You simply continued on, guiding him through the sterile halls, knowing this would be the last time you’d see him like this.

The journey felt too short to Levi. Soon, he found himself at the entrance of his new house in Marley, the place that now felt both unfamiliar and too familiar all at once. The wheelchair came to a stop, and for a moment, he just stared at the door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was really here. He didn’t have the words for the swell of emotions rising in his chest, nor did he know how to face the world outside, the world that seemed so different from the one you had made him feel safe in, even if just for a little while.

And as the door of his new home loomed before him, Levi couldn’t shake the thought of you, how you had been so close, yet so far away.

Ever since leaving the hospital, Levi’s life felt dull and monotonous. The days bled into each other in a haze of silence, and the once driven and disciplined man seemed to have lost all will to move forward. He barely spoke to anyone, his communication limited to the barest essentials. Meals went untouched, the food left to spoil as he stared at it, unable to summon the energy or the motivation to eat. The bed had become his sanctuary and his prison, a place where he could escape, even if only momentarily, from the weight of his own thoughts.

He didn’t care to leave the confines of the room, his gaze fixed on the dull walls as if they could somehow provide the comfort he desperately sought. Even the mess around him, a stark contrast to the spotless surroundings he had once prided himself on, went unnoticed. Clothes were scattered around the room, some half-folded, others in crumpled piles. Dirty dishes sat abandoned on the side table. The place was a wreck, but Levi didn’t bat an eye at it. The clean freak who once took pride in maintaining order now found himself indifferent, the mess reflecting just how much this entire situation was weighing on him.

It was clear to anyone who knew him that this wasn’t just a temporary slump. This was something deeper, something more profound. His usual sharp edge, his resolve—everything that made Levi Ackerman the person he was—seemed to have faded. Instead, a hollow version of him lingered in the dim room, trapped in his own head.

Onyankopon, of course, had noticed the drastic change in Levi. The man was not one to ignore such things, and it had weighed heavily on his mind. He knew the raven-haired soldier well enough to see that something was off, and his concern only deepened with each passing day. The dark-skinned man had tried to engage Levi, tried to reach out, but the silence was always the same. He knocked on Levi’s door one more time, his fist gently tapping against the wood.

“Levi?” he called out, his voice soft but laced with concern. He waited for a response, but there was nothing—no movement, no sound. Just the heavy silence that seemed to have swallowed everything around the man.

Onyankopon let out a sigh, his worry growing. He stepped back and turned toward the living room, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. He couldn’t just sit back and watch this happen. He had to do something. He thought for a moment, pondering what could be done to help the man who had once been so determined, so unyielding in his approach to everything.

And then, an idea hit him, almost like a flash of inspiration. He’d call you.

It wasn’t an easy decision. Onyankopon wasn’t sure how this would play out, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it became that you were the key to reaching Levi. Somehow, someway, he had come to understand that Levi must have liked you more than he let on. The day Levi was discharged from the hospital, the way he had stared at you with that look—an indescribable expression that conveyed longing, perhaps regret, and a silent plea. It had been a subtle thing, something most people might have missed, but Onyankopon had caught it. It wasn’t just that Levi was leaving the hospital; it was that he didn’t want to leave you.

He had never seen Levi like that before, and it troubled him. That quiet ache in the man's eyes, the yearning for something more, something he could no longer have. Maybe that was what was gnawing at him, pulling him into this abyss of isolation. Maybe that was what made him shut down completely.

Onyankopon couldn’t ignore it anymore. He needed to call you. If there was anyone who could help pull Levi out of this, it was you. And maybe, just maybe, you had a chance at healing the part of him that had been broken all along.

Onyankopon walked over to the phone with determination, his fingers hesitating only for a brief moment before he dialed your number. He had no time to waste; Levi needed help, and he knew you were the one person who might be able to reach him. The phone rang a few times before you picked up, your voice sounding a little surprised.

"Hello? How can I help you?"

Onyankopon took a deep breath, his voice serious as he spoke. "It’s about Levi. He’s not doing well—hasn’t been eating, barely talking, and he’s practically shut himself in. I’m worried about him, and I think you should come check on him. He might listen to you."

You paused for a moment, the concern clear in your voice as you processed his words. Levi. The usually strong and composed man who had, in the blink of an eye, become a shadow of his former self. It tugged at your heart to hear that he was struggling, but at the same time, you were cautious. You knew how grumpy and closed-off Levi could be, and you didn’t want to intrude on his personal space, especially when he had been so distant lately.

“I understand,” you replied carefully, a slight hesitation lingering in your tone. "But... are you sure he’ll be okay with me coming over? I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready to talk."

Onyankopon’s voice softened, understanding your apprehension. "I think it’s worth a try. He might need someone who knows him—someone who can get through to him. I think you’re that person."

You couldn’t deny the worry creeping up inside you, but there was something else too—a sense of duty. For the short time you’d known Levi, you had grown a soft spot for him. You had seen beyond his gruff exterior, glimpsing the man who, despite his stoic nature, had a quiet strength and a vulnerability that you found hard to ignore. You couldn’t let him continue like this, not if there was a chance you could help.

After a moment of silence, you made your decision. "Alright. I’ll come over."

The walk to his house was longer than you expected, each step carrying a mix of urgency and unease. The weight of the situation pressed on you with every passing minute. What would you find when you got there? Would he be angry? Would he shut you out completely? Or, perhaps, would he let you in, if only for a moment?

When you finally arrived at Levi’s house, you could see Onyankopon waiting outside, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. The moment he saw you, his face softened, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“You made it,” he said, his voice quiet but grateful. "I’m glad you’re here. He’s not in a good state… I just don’t know how much longer he can keep this up."

You nodded in understanding, your heart aching at the thought of Levi’s isolation. You could feel the tension in the air around his house—it was thick, almost oppressive. Steeling yourself, you followed Onyankopon inside, knowing that whatever happened next, you had to be there for him. You just hoped Levi would let you in.

“He’s in his room,” Onyankopon said quietly, his tone heavy with concern. He gave you a small, knowing nod before retreating, leaving you alone with the task of approaching Levi. You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as you made your way down the hallway. The weight of the situation lingered in the air like an invisible pressure, and with each step closer to his room, your heart began to beat a little faster. You didn’t know what you’d find on the other side of that door, but you hoped, somehow, that you could make a difference.

When you reached the door to his bedroom, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You raised your hand and knocked softly, not wanting to startle him but hoping to get his attention.

“Mr. Ackerman?” You called out gently, your voice careful but filled with concern.

The silence that followed was deafening. You stood there for a moment, waiting for any kind of response, but there was nothing. Only the faint sound of bed sheets rustling from the other side of the door. It made your stomach tighten with uncertainty. Had he heard you? Was he ignoring you? Or had he simply chosen to stay in his isolation, shutting everyone out?

On the other side of the door, Levi was laying in bed, his mind lost in a haze of exhaustion and tangled thoughts. He hadn’t expected anyone to come today. After all, why would anyone want to visit him? He didn’t even want to deal with anyone, especially not now. The days had blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last, and he had retreated even further into himself, away from the world that no longer seemed to make sense.

But then he heard your voice.

It was soft, tentative, but undeniably real. For a split second, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or if you were actually there. His mind raced as he lay still in his bed, his body frozen in place as he tried to process what he had just heard. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog in his head. It had been days since anyone had spoken to him with such gentle care, and hearing you call his name caught him off guard.

Slowly, Levi sat up in bed, his movements stiff and sluggish, as if the weight of his own thoughts was pulling him back down. His gaze flickered toward the door, and he stared at it for a long moment, unsure whether to open it, to acknowledge you, or to remain hidden within the safety of his room.

He wasn’t sure if you were really there. He wasn’t sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He had spent so much time in solitude that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone show concern for him, to have someone reach out.

But the rustling sound of your footsteps on the other side of the door, the softness in your voice when you said his name—it all felt too real to ignore. Still, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to open up, to let someone in. But for some reason, he found himself wondering, just for a moment, what it would feel like if he did.

"Can I come in?" you asked gently, your voice filled with hope. The silence on the other side of the door seemed to stretch on, but after what felt like an eternity, Levi's voice broke through, low and quiet.

"Yeah... come in," he murmured, almost as if it took all his energy to give you that permission.

You slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside with careful steps, your heart heavy with concern. The moment you entered the room, your eyes widened at the sight before you. The usually meticulous and clean Levi had let his room fall into disarray. Clothes were strewn about, some piled up in corners, others half-removed from the hangers, as if he’d lost the will to care. The bed was unmade, with blankets thrown haphazardly across it. The room felt stifling, a reflection of the mess inside Levi's own mind.

“Oh dear…” you murmured, your voice soft, but the surprise was clear.

Levi, sitting on the edge of his bed, shifted his gaze away from you, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. His embarrassment was palpable.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered, his voice weak and hoarse from the silence he had been surrounded by for days.

You shook your head, offering him a warm smile despite the mess. "It’s okay, we’ll take care of that." Your words were light and reassuring, meant to ease his mind, but you could see how much it affected him. Levi wasn’t used to letting things slide, not like this. It was clear that something deep inside him had been shaken, and as you looked around the room, you could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him.

In that moment, as you stood there, so gentle and understanding despite the chaos, Levi could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. The softness in your gaze, the way you didn’t judge him, made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t prepared for. It was almost like he was falling in love all over again, despite himself. He had never realized how much he had come to rely on your kindness until now.

You didn't let the silence drag on, your thoughts already drifting back to what Onyankopon had told you. He’d mentioned that Levi hadn’t had a proper meal in days—maybe even longer. Right now, he was a broken man, too tired to even care about basic things like eating.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” you said, your tone more resolute now, as if you had made it your mission to make sure he didn’t continue to suffer in silence.

Levi didn’t respond at first. He just nodded weakly, his exhaustion and emotional turmoil evident in the slight droop of his shoulders. A simple nod was all he could muster, but it was enough for you to understand that he needed help.

You left him alone in his room and made your way to the kitchen. The sound of the kettle whistling, the gentle stirring of ingredients, and the soft hum of the kitchen as you prepared his meal brought a sense of purpose back to you. You focused on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting back to him—wondering if he’d be okay.

You made a small, simple meal—nothing too fancy, but hearty enough to give him some strength. Along with it, you brewed a pot of tea, knowing exactly how he liked it. Strong, just the right amount of bitterness, and a touch of honey.

With the meal and tea prepared, you walked back into his room, the soft clink of the tray in your hands filling the space as you approached him. Levi was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze distant, but when you entered, he turned toward you, his eyes softening just slightly at the sight of the food and drink you brought him. You set the tray down on the small table next to his bed and handed him the tea first.

"Thank you," he muttered, his voice still quiet but carrying a note of gratitude that warmed your heart. It was the first time you had heard any emotion in his words for days.

"You're welcome," you replied, your smile small but sincere as you watched him take the tea from your hands.

Levi took a long sip, the warmth of the tea seeping into his tired body. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the familiar taste. “No one makes tea like you,” he said softly between sips. The words felt heavy with more than just appreciation.

You smiled at that, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Glad you missed me. I was lonely without your grumpiness.” Your words were light, teasing, but the undercurrent of affection was there, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the faintest of smiles tug at the corners of Levi’s lips.

He took another sip of the tea, then picked at the food, eating in small bites, almost as if he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of him eating and the occasional sip of tea, but it was a peaceful silence. The tension that had once filled the room, the heaviness in his posture, seemed to ease just a little with each bite and each sip.

You stood nearby, watching him carefully as he finally ate the meal you prepared for him, his movements slow but deliberate. It was a small victory, but it felt significant.

As Levi slowly finished the meal you had prepared, you took the opportunity to begin tidying up his room. The dishes were simple enough to clean, but it gave you a moment to organize the rest of the room as well. During your time with him, you had come to understand just how much Levi appreciated a clean, organized space. It was something that had become second nature to him over the years, and yet, now, he seemed almost incapable of maintaining it on his own, weighed down by his emotions and exhaustion.

You moved silently through the room, picking up clothes that were left in disarray and making the bed with careful precision. All the while, you could feel Levi's gaze on you. His dark eyes followed your every movement, tracing your figure as you worked. Though he didn't say anything, the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. It was hard to ignore the warmth in his eyes, the unspoken gratitude there, even as he stayed quiet.

Once the room was cleaned and everything was in its place, you returned to his side, helping him sit up in bed, your hands gentle and steady as you supported him. “Do you want help bathing?” you asked softly, your voice tentative. You knew how fiercely independent Levi could be, and if it had been anyone else, he likely would have dismissed the offer immediately. But this time, there was something in his eyes, a silent longing for care that made him hesitate.

He didn’t trust his voice, the words stuck in his throat, so he simply nodded. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He trusted you, even in this vulnerable moment, and it meant more to you than you could express.

You helped him stand up carefully, supporting him as you led him to the bathroom. As you set to work drawing a warm bath for him, Levi stood in the corner, peeling off his clothes slowly. There was an awkwardness to his movements, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to be distant. He just didn’t know how to navigate this situation, and you couldn’t blame him for that. He was used to being strong, self-sufficient, and here you were, taking care of him in ways he hadn't allowed anyone to before.

Once the tub was full, you adjusted the water’s temperature, testing it with your hand before turning to him. Levi slowly lowered himself in the water. You could see that he was already relaxed, his shoulders less tense as the warmth of the bath surrounded him. You grabbed a rag and soap, pausing for a moment to make sure everything was ready before beginning. "You don't mind, right? Tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable," you reassured him, your voice soft and gentle, ensuring he knew he had control over the situation.

Levi closed his eyes, leaning back slightly against the edge of the tub as he sank into the warm water. He let out a small sigh of relief as the heat melted some of the tension in his muscles. For a moment, he just allowed himself to relax, and he realized that he didn’t feel uncomfortable with you at all. Embarrassed, yes—his pride as a soldier was a difficult thing to overcome—but uncomfortable? No. Not with you.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that washed over him as you moved closer, the soft lather of the soap in your hands. You had been taking care of him in so many ways already, and now this—washing him, helping him like this—was something he never would have imagined himself allowing anyone to do. But with you, it felt different. The embarrassment was there, lingering in the back of his mind, but it didn’t matter. He didn't want you to stop. He couldn’t bring himself to ask you to, even if a small part of him wished that he could keep his distance.

When you confirmed that he was fine, you began to wash him. Your touch was careful and thorough, the rag gentle as it scrubbed across his skin. You focused on his upper body, being mindful not to invade his personal space too much, but your touch was soothing nonetheless. You could feel the tension in his body start to melt away as you moved, your presence a quiet reassurance that made him feel safe. You made sure to clean every inch of his upper body, your movements slow and deliberate, giving him time to adjust to each step. You didn't rush, knowing that this act of care was something he wasn’t used to, and you wanted him to feel comfortable.

Once you had finished, you carefully patted him down with a soft towel, drying his skin as gently as you could. Then you wrapped the towel around him, securing it around his waist, and helped him out of the bath. His movements were slow, but with your support, he was steady. You led him back to his bedroom, where you sat him on the edge of his bed.

Levi didn’t speak as you helped him dress, but you could see the faint appreciation in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he trusted you, that he was grateful. You dressed him carefully, making sure everything was in place, then moved to dry his hair. You ran a towel through his dark hair, the damp strands slipping between your fingers as you gently worked to remove the moisture.

When you finished, you stepped back and looked at him for a moment. He looked different, more like himself, and though there was still a sadness in his eyes, there was also a hint of something more. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the relief of being cared for after so long. Either way, it felt like a small step forward.

Levi finally looked up at you, his voice low but sincere. "Thank you," he said, his words carrying more weight than usual. It wasn’t just for the bath or the food—it was for everything you had done, for everything you had been for him in this moment of weakness. And despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. But his eyes spoke volumes, and you understood.

Levi looked more alive now, his posture a little straighter, his expression less burdened than when you first arrived. The peacefulness that seemed to have eluded him for days was finally settling into his features, and it brought a small sense of relief to you. You stood by his side, your arms crossed in a playful but firm manner, watching him as he sat up in bed, his dark eyes now clearer, his fatigue somewhat lifted.

“You should really take better care of yourself, Mr. Ackerman,” you chided him gently, a hint of concern still lingering in your voice. He needed to hear it—needed someone to remind him that he mattered, that his well-being mattered.

Levi simply sighed, tilting his head back against the pillow. "Levi," he corrected you, his tone almost too casual, though you could sense the irritation beneath the surface. He wasn't one for too much care or attention, preferring to handle things on his own.

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised at his sudden insistence.

“Tch… calling me Levi," he repeated with a quiet growl, though there was no true malice in his words, just a touch of annoyance. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be treated like some fragile thing, or perhaps it was his stubborn nature refusing to show too much vulnerability.

You couldn’t help but smile at his tone. It was the familiar, grumpy Levi you knew and had grown to care for. “Okay, Levi,” you said, your voice light and teasing as his name rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt more natural than it should have.

Levi’s eyes flickered slightly, an unspoken reaction at the way you said his name. It was something about the way it sounded when it came from your lips, like it held more weight, more warmth than anyone else’s. He felt a small flutter in his chest, but he quickly brushed it aside, annoyed at himself for letting something so insignificant affect him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, a soft conversation flowing between you, easy and natural. Time seemed to slip by unnoticed as you talked, the rhythm of your words settling a peaceful air in the room. For the first time in a long time, Levi felt like he could breathe, like there was no urgency, no pressing battle to face—just the quiet presence of someone who cared for him.

But as the night wore on, you glanced at the clock, and your heart sank just a little. It was time to leave. You stood up slowly, gathering your things, and the moment you began moving toward the door, Levi’s gaze followed you, his expression softening. He didn’t want you to leave, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to spend more time with you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and before you could say anything, there was a brief, unexpected sensation—a light kiss pressed to his cheek. It was gentle, sweet, and fleeting, but it lingered in the air, making Levi’s heart skip a beat. His face immediately flushed, his breath catching in his throat. He turned his face away, hoping you wouldn’t notice the heat on his cheeks.

“Goodnight, Levi,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth. “I’ll check on you soon.” Your words were a promise, a reassurance that you would be there again.

Levi mumbled a quiet, almost embarrassed, “Goodnight,” his voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite name. He watched as you left the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that left him feeling a bit emptier than before.

But as he sat there, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. It wasn’t big or dramatic, just a soft curve that made his eyes brighten, albeit slightly. A feeling lingered in his chest—something warm, something he hadn’t quite allowed himself to feel in a long time. He couldn’t wait for the next time.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

⌕ results shown for: d0ctorstea, boundaries. disclaimer: if you break these, you will be blocked.

+1 notification: home page.

DO NOT INTERACT IF: you fit the basic dni criteria \\ you support israel \\ can’t discuss things (like differing opinions) maturely \\ you are a pro-shipper \\ you are a porn link poster \\ you write smut for minors (aging them up with no canon time skip is also not welcome)

HATE ASKS get either completely ridiculed & clowned or instantly blocked & deleted, no in-between. idc abt what you say (especially on anon). you got something to say about me, say it to me directly!

empty blogs will get blocked. inactive blogs too. use your accounts.

i use the block button freely. if you’re blocked, you’re either one of the ppl in my dni or a blank/empty blog with no posts. or, it’s just that i didn’t feel comfortable with something you posted or said. orrrrr, it’s because of your own do not interact criteria and i went ahead and blocked you to spare you the trouble :)

most works are self-centred / self-indulgent: meaning, they are all catered to what i want. reader will always be portrayed as a certain way you might not relate to most of the time. though, no further descriptions are added (skin tone, body type etc.) unless i specify so in the tags.

this blog is not spoiler free. i also may forget to put spoiler warnings every now and then. don’t hesitate to politely remind me to add them if that happens.

i’m a slow writer sometimes. do not expect a fic each day or even each week / two weeks. i have a social life outside of this tumblr account i started just for fun — no pressuring me for a part 2 / fic either or you’re blocked.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

⌕ entered diary page: entry two, love and deepspace. disclaimer: full warnings in the posts!

+1 notification: home page.

click : toxic games. ( yandere zayne x gn toxic! reader ) oneshot · hurt/no comfort.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

⌕ entered diary page: entry one, attack on titan. disclaimer: full warnings in the posts!

+1 notification: home page.

click : discharged. ( levi x gn! reader ) oneshot · fluff.

click : when he realizes he's in love. ( levi x gn! reader ) oneshot · fluff.

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

⌕ results shown for: d0ctorstea, e-diary. disclaimer: don’t plagiarise · copy · repost without cred.

+1 notification: home page.

entry one: attack on titan › updating. incl. one-shots · scenarios · drabbles · texts.

entry two: love and deepspace › updating. incl. one-shots · scenarios · drabbles · texts.

upcoming masterlists: n/a

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.

[d0ctorstea]

01:43 / 12:25 now playing: real man elise’s e-diary › episode two: ‘this is a levi-centred blog.’

﹫inbox open 𖬺 obsessed with fictional men, prefers she/them. ⎯⎯ inconsistent . . . dark mode on . . . likes levi and zayne.

𐔌 popular videos ⟡ my boundaries ⟡ latest upload 𐦯

up next: ‘am i crazy for finding my doctor hot?’

© 𝗱𝟬𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮 — 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌.