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aritsukemo · 3 days ago

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Invisible Scars | Multiple Characters

Summary: In which the night before leaves you traumatized and causes your emotionally constipated/emotionally reserved friend to seek you out.

Warnings: Purposely vague descriptions ahead ( no names are mentioned besides yours ). Reader killed someone and is negatively reeling from it. Blood is mentioned but nothing seriously descriptive. All that said, read at your own risk!

A/N: I got the idea to write this after scrolling through @creativepromptsforwriting's sideblog and finding this prompt. I plan to tag characters who come to mind, but this is really an open drabble so feel free to imagine whomever you see fits! :D

Tagging: @nursedflowers and @saioratral

The high-pitched screech that bounced off the walls was a sound one would typically associate with tea at it's boiling point or maybe a hotpot screaming to be eaten. One thing that certainly would not have come to mind was a running faucet—specifically one that ran water so hot that it made even the durable metal cry out in pain.

The incessant shrieking, as annoying as it was, didn't faze the girl who sat before the sink. It was as if the noise was never there...which actually wouldn't be that far off from the truth.

In reality, she couldn't hear a thing aside from the same bloodcurdling screams.

Her hands worked as if they were trying to create a fire. They slide together at blinding speed, rubbing against one another so hard that a few more minutes of it would surely cause a tear in the skin of her palms.

Part of her wished that would actually happen.

A knock on the door sounds followed by the mellow hum of her friend's voice as he called from the other side, "Y/n. Are you still in there? It's me."

Heavy silence replaces her much needed answer, and if it weren't for the faint sound of running water, he would've been none the wiser in assuming she wasn't in there. Since that wasn't the case, however, he had no other choice but to try again.

"Y/n," He calls only for the same result. He then tries a third time, "Y/n!"

Silence. He sighs. Guess he has no other choice.

"Forgive the intrusion," With that gentle request serving as a small warning, he takes his time to twist the knob, giving her more than enough time to make herself presentable if need be as he swung the door open at a turtle's pace and peered inside.

As he suspected, she was standing at the sink, her back facing the door and preventing him from seeing what she was doing—not that he needed to. The steam, the running water, the uncomfortable sound of her hands sloshing together and sounding like two blades clashing...it all gave him an inkling of what was happening.

But how long has she been doing this for? He was almost to scared to ask. Almost.

"You've been in here for a while now," He said, and unlike his usual tone, his voice was dipped in uncharacteristic gentleness and sounded rather withheld. It was as if he was being held at swordpoint, and even then, it was surprising to hear him sound that way.

Maybe if she was paying attention she would've heard it and teased him about it. Possibly cracked a joke or two about him finally growing soft enough to warm up to her after all these years.

But instead he received silence and that scared him more than any enemy he's has faced in his lifetime.

"Hey," He called out again, but this time more sternly. He also didn't give her nearly as much time to answer. Not that she likely would.

"You can stop now. I doubt your hands are that dirty.." He's slow with his steps, closing the distance bit by bit, "Hell, by now, your hands are probably cleaner than mine."

She doesn't move, flinch, or do anything that would acknowledge that his words had reached her. It was as if she was in a trance, put under a spell of some kind or was a victim to some hypnotism caused by unknown means.

In a sense, what was happening right now was kinda like that.

In the matter of a minute or so, he's close enough to reach out for her delicate wrist. He does just that, but not too long after he snatches his hand away. He then paused, looking at his hand before looking back up at her with horrid shock gleaming off his hues.

This water was hot. Really hot. Hotter than any water boiled for food or tea.. He's surprised that the droplets don't just evaporate as soon as they leave the faucet.

"You don't feel that?" He leans in, getting closer to her face as his brows furrow, "Does that not hurt?"

He already knew the answer—of course it did—but the fact that she wouldn't answer him struck a nerve and in the end he finds himself grabbing her roughly by the wrist and snatching her away from that molten lava altogether.

He shuts off the water quickly after that, putting the annoying whistling it produced to an abrupt end. It seemed only then that the trance she was put under was broken and she was finally able to think and move for herself again.

As he lets go of her wrist, she finds herself opening her palms and staring down at them. She stares for a long while. Just opening and closing her palms repeatedly and rubbing her fingertips together, as if she was examining a foreign object.

The skin of her palms looked as if she had ran them across a rough surface for an hour; puffy with an angry hue of red to them.

They were a deep shade, just like... She clenches her teeth. He's quick to notice.

"If this is about the other day.." He began, his words dying in his throat as he watched as she flinched away at his very words.

He knew this would happen in the end. He tried to warn them all but nobody wanted to listen to reason. They sent this fragile glasswork into that cage of knives and sharp fangs without a care in the world and left him with the job of mending anything that was broken back together.

It truly irked him. More than something like this usually would.

"If... If you were in my shoes yesterday.." She began slowly and quietly, and despite her voice sounding like a mouse's squeak and a part of his blood boiling at the sound of it, he bit his tongue and held back his snapping comment.

Right now was not the time to be reckless. Too hard of a hit—or any pressure at all really—would cause his dear friend to shatter into a million pieces and he can't have that. How would he be able to fix her up in that condition?

"If you were me last night, if... If you had your weapon to that person's throat. ...If they begged you through their sobs and reduced to a blubbering mess...going on and on about how they needed to live.." She pauses, whether that was because she noticed how her voice grew more and more unsteady with every word she spoke or the fact that her hands had begun to tremble was unknown to even her. It seemed that at this point she was unsure of, well, everything.

And at that point, her friend saw no better of a time than to take a risk and speak his mind.

"If you plan to continue on to ask me if I would've still killed them than let me spare us both the time; I would in a heartbeat."

She laughs at him, her giggle sounding like a sick bird trying to sing. It should be comforting to here despite it's raspiness. After all, despite it not sounding exactly like her usual laughter, it's a miracle she's able to laugh at all. He should be sighing out of relief that she still seems to be gripping onto her sanity enough to find humor in such a dank situation.

But he couldn't, and all because of the simple fact that he had grown used to her sounding so full of life. It was truly a pity.

"I suppose that was a silly question of me to ask you of all people."

In all this time, he's noticed she hasn't looked up from her hands once. It was unnerving to see her like this, but there was nothing he could truly do about it. He could direct her attention elsewhere, sure, but that wouldn't stop the swarming of her thoughts or reduce her heightened awareness of what was once staining her hands and forearms. And, it surely wouldn't halt the constant loop of that incident from playing in her mind—that moment of her taking a life with her own hands, in a quite grotesque way at that.

Her mind was stained just like her skin and just like how she couldn't truly rid herself of the grimy feeling of blood sticking to her skin no matter how hard she scrubbed, he couldn't wipe her mind of what happened. They were both truly powerless.

But he had to do something. Now that they've gotten her foot out of the door, she has to walk through it. There's no backing out of this, she knew this when she went on that mission yesterday. There was no way but forward. He knew that better than anyone.

"Nevermind what happened, come on," He slides his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and dips down to the upper part of her back where he gently pushes her in the direction of the door, all as he tells her, "You should get off your feet and actually rest. You'll need it for tomorrow.."

For the first time that night, she glances up at him. It was for a mere moment, but that quick second was all he needed. Her eyes..were like a starless sky; completely devoid of it's usually glimmer of life. It was as if he was staring at a solider who's spent the last decade at war.

Truly astounding how such a look was formed just after a single night.

Wordlessly, she allows him to push her in the direction of the door as if she weighed nothing. She walked slowly, and as she did she looked back down at her clean, reddened hands. Her eyes sinking even more as she does.

She finds herself wondering if the blood she felt would ever go away—if it were possible that her palms would be capable of ever being truly clean again—and that led her to softly murmur to the only one she could think of turning to; her companion and partner in crime, him.

"Does it.. Does this ever get better?" She asks to which she receives probably the heaviest sigh she's ever heard in her life. It tells her all she needs to know but does little to quell the turmoil in her heart. It has her questioning if she'll be able to handle the path forward. If she'll reach the end or go insane halfway through.

Whatever happens, she finds herself praying that she'll be able to walk this path hand in hand with someone who's treaded this gravel before.

..And it so happens that a person like that is leading her to her bedroom right now. How convenient.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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m-jelly · 1 day ago

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Hello Jelly! I hope your days are going good, happy late new year! If your requests are open and you're willing to write it, I have one. A Levi x reader who's a Selkie (A woman who can change between a seal and human by taking on/off her seal skin) where reader meets Levi in the corps. She was trying to bargain for her skin back from someone (who was trying to get married to reader by hiding her skin) and Levi steps in. They form a friendship, eventually fall for one another, and they get married. But what happens after she gets her skin back is up to you, feel free to ignore though.

What makes you whole.

Levi x selkie fem reader

Canon world, post-war Levi, married couple, emotional, slight angst, romance.

After settling down after the war ended Levi manages to track down your lost skin stolen from you. Conflicted by his feelings and what to do, he finally decides it's best to hand it back over to you and accept whatever you choose to do.

When he gazed at your skin, it was hard to know how to feel. It brought him joy knowing that the very thing that brought you together was right in front of him. It was so beautiful too, which was so typical of you to be incredibly beautiful because you always were.

Levi remembered when he first met you almost falling apart as you pleaded with a man for your selkie skin back, but he would only gift it if you married him. He saved you and discovered the man never had your skin. That meeting started everything, your romance and life grew from then on.

The love Levi had for you was deep and strong, so knowing he could possibly lose you by handing over this skin hurt his heart. Honesty was important between you and him, you'd tell him everything and he would you. Having this skin and not telling you would be a horrible sin.

He collected the skin wrapped it up and placed it in his bag. He grabbed the walking stick you gifted him and made his way home. Each step towards your home on the beach he felt a sinking feeling in his heart. You were a divine creature of the ocean, surely you'd leave him to go home.

He stopped when he came to the house and saw you outside hanging the washing. The bag he was holding felt unbelievably heavy. He released it causing it to thud against the floor. A sob of despair escaped him causing you to look over.

Hearing you run over and calling out his name only broke him more. Would this be the last time you'd run to him? Would this be the last time you held him? Was this the end of his happy life and love?

You cradled Levi's perfect face in your hands. "Darling, talk to me. What's wrong? Levi, please."

He shook a little unable to string a sentence together, so he simply said. "Bag."

"Bag?" Confusion was etched on your face. "What do you mean?"

He persisted and pointed. "Bag."

Piecing things together a little, you crouched down and opened the bag. Your hands stilled when you recognised what your husband had brought to you, your skin was back. "Levi, I..." You cast your gaze up to your husband who was breaking. "Thank you for finding it."

His legs gave in making him slip to the floor, but you caught him and cradled him in your loving arms. He sobbed your name. "I will miss you."

You frowned at his words. "Miss me? Am I going somewhere?"

He clung to you. "The ocean. It's you're home. You can go home now."

"Home?"

"Yes."

You shifted your wonderful body and cradled his face. "Levi, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you because I'm already home."

He sniffed as your words started to sink in, the pain in his heart subsided as love spread through him. "You are?"

Tears ran down your cheeks as you smiled. "Oh, you beautiful and romantic man. Yes, I am home. You are my home. I'm not going anywhere unless it is with you. I love you, Levi. I love you more than anything in this world." You kissed him passionately and tried to push your feelings into the kiss. "I love you."

Levi's pain washed away from your words and actions. "I love you too. I love you so much. You're my everything." He tilted his head and kissed you over and over, the more he did the more heated it became. "Thank you, thank you for staying."

You hummed a gentle laugh. "You're stuck with me, darling husband. I'm not going anywhere." You got up and pulled him with you. "Let's get you inside and this skin."

Levi grabbed the bag. "I've got it."

"It'll be a fun thing to show our kids. Mummy's seal skin."

A blush consumed Levi's cheeks and he walked with you home. "Yeah, it'll be fun for them."

You placed the bag down on the side before wrapping your arms around Levi. "Did you think I was going to leave you?"

"Mm."

You rubbed his back. "I'll never leave you. I'm yours, Levi."

He released a long sigh. "I know that now. I love you."

You kissed his cheek. "Thank you for thinking of me. I'm shocked you were willing to let me go, but that'd never happen. I'm forever yours."

Tags under cut

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman

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lev1berry · 2 days ago

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When I say levi ackerman from aot instead of perfect (it's not an accident)

#levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader

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levis-poison-is-my-medicine · 9 hours ago

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Dreams Don't Lie

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 10)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

It all started with a silly dream. How could it get this out of control?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 4.1k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"I know your deepest, darkest secret."

You spun around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice which had suddenly spoken behind you. But all you found was a cat lounging in the doorway, looking up at you with a sullenly bored expression.

"Nice try. But I don't have any," you replied, slightly bemused. It was true – there was no point in having secrets when you sucked at keeping them.

The cat's tail twitched impatiently. "Oh, but you do. It is a secret so clandestine, so private, that not even you know about it."

"A secret that I don't know about? And what would that be?" You challenged, your tone skeptical. It didn't even make any sense.

The cat took its sweet time before answering, thoroughly licking its paw as if to savor the moment. Then it locked eyes with you. "There's something you love more than tea."

You gasped, horrified. "Take that back!"

"Why should I? You know it's true." The cat looked thoroughly unimpressed by the accusing finger you had jabbed in its direction. "As a matter of fact, it's been true for a while now."

You frantically shook your head, trying to erase the words from your mind. But they kept replaying, growing louder and louder each time, until they melded together in a deafening choir, all chanting the same few words: "There's something you love more than tea."

With a start, you jolted awake, bathed in cold sweat. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you were safely tucked in your bed, and it had all been nothing more than a stupid dream. You shook your head again. "How absurd," you mumbled. How absolutely, completely, utterly ridiculous. Tea had been there for you when no one else had. It had gotten you through your darkest hours. How could anything possibly hold a candle to that?

But a little bit of doubt remained, gnawing at you. After all, dreams were the royal road to the unconscious, and all that. Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something. But what? That you were secretly a coffee person? You shuddered at the thought. How blasphemous.

It was probably just a dream. Still, you were too shaken to fall back asleep, so you got up to brew yourself a nice, hot cup of tea.

When you came back in, your roommates were already awake, getting dressed and ready for the day.

"How come you're up so early?" Nanaba asked in astonishment. You usually slept right through the early morning hustle and bustle, only getting up at the last possible minute.

"It's nothing. Just a bad dream," you replied offhandedly and settled back down on the lower bunk of the bunk bed you shared with Nifa, cradling the steaming cup of tea in your hands.

"Oh yeah? What was it about?" Nanaba inquired.

You sighed. "I don't really know. It was all pretty confusing."

Nanaba gave a brief nod, sensing you weren't too eager to talk about it. She slipped on her uniform jacket and headed for the door.

Without thinking, you blurted out, "What do you love the most?"

Nanaba stopped with her hand on the door handle. She turned around, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I–" she began, but Lynne was faster.

"Mike, of course," she snickered.

Nanaba shot her a dirty look, but then begrudgingly conceded, "…You're probably right about that."

"Ha! I know you so well. I may not understand your infatuation with that glorified sniffer dog, but I sure know you."

Nanaba just rolled her eyes at Lynne's playful jab.

"What were you going to say?" You asked Nanaba, still curious.

"Honestly? I don't know. Most likely something different, like my family."

You gave her a puzzled look. "How come?"

Nanaba shrugged. "Sometimes these sort of things can be hard to admit. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times."

You turned your cup of tea in your hands, trying to make sense of her answer. "How could someone else know you better than yourself?"

"Well," Nifa chimed in, "sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Plus, we tend to lie to ourselves – say the "right" thing instead of the true thing. Like... there's something within us that holds us back from saying what we really feel. Others don't have that barrier."

You nodded thoughtfully, understanding what she meant.

"And what do you love the most?" Lynne asked, a teasing grin on her lips as she dropped down next to you on the bed.

"Tea," you replied without missing a beat.

Lynne snorted out a laugh. "Of course. Why did I even ask?"

But a flicker of doubt remained.

– –

The thought lingered in the back of your mind even during the scout's daily training session. Today, your squad had been assigned to Titan combat training in the woods alongside squad Levi – usually your favorite type of drill. But this time, your mind just wasn't in it.

You halfheartedly slashed at the nape of the wooden Titan dummy in front of you, barely even leaving a mark as you passed it, shooting forward among the trees.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't even a scratch!" Oluo shouted from a nearby tree.

"Huh?“ You hadn't even noticed, too deep in thought to really pay any attention to your surroundings.

"Off your game today?" Petra asked as she zipped past you.

You looked after her with a blank expression, watching as her green cape fluttered after her in the rush of air before it disappeared among the leaves. You couldn't help but wonder: what did Petra love the most? And did she even truly know what it was?

The green canopy blurred around you as you picked up speed, the gas hissing as you pressed down on the trigger. You absentmindedly shot the grappling hooks into another tree, propelling you forward with a jolt.

A Titan dummy sprang into your vision, looming over you like a sudden shadow – too close, and getting closer still. Adrenaline surged through your veins, jerking you away from your daydreams. You twisted to the side to change your trajectory, but it was too late. The hard wood scraped against the side of your body as you veered right. There was a snap, and a sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder. All strength left your am. You dropped the trigger. Then the world spun out of control.

You were falling, upended, the air screaming in your ears as you barely whipped past a tree. Desperate to regain your balance, you pushed the remaining trigger, releasing the hook you still had control over. In an instant, you were yanked sideways. Branches scratched over your arms and face as you were swept through the underwood.

Then – a sudden lurch. Your downward plunge came to an abrupt stop as the wire of the remaining grappling hook was pulled taut. It made you swing back and forth violently, scraping your skin against the bark of the tree it was attached to, but you were still suspended in the air.

Upside down, swinging like a pendulum. But still.

The muscles in your abdomen strained as you fought to get back into an upright position. But hanging only by one wire, it was impossible.

"Shouldn't have had that dessert earlier," you mumbled to yourself. All that swinging wouldn't have been easy on an empty stomach, let alone one currently doing a headstand. You really needed to come up with a solution, but the blood rushing to your head didn't exactly help.

"Here goes nothing."

You tried to angle your hip upwards into the right direction, then tapped the remaining trigger lightly, sending the second grappling hook shooting toward the nearest trunk. The hook caught, and you were jerked to the side – the swinging finally stopped.

With two wires holding you, you managed to right yourself straightaway.

Now that you had your balance back, it should be easy – you just had to grab the other trigger currently dangling from your left hip, and you'd be back in the game. But as you tried to reach for it, nothing happened. Your left arm refused to obey, hanging limply by your side like a dead weight, useless. You couldn't move it, couldn't grip.

You were stuck.

Without the trigger, there was no way of releasing the left grappling hook. And if you released the right hook again, you'd just go back to swinging back and forth like a giant pocket watch, tethered to a tree for all eternity.

This was embarrassing.

"Um... Help? Is anybody out there?"

No response. You sighed. Screw your dignity. You needed to be out of here by teatime.

With your right hand, you fumbled for one of the signal flares. For training, it was loaded with a purple shell for emergencies. You held it above your head and pulled the trigger, watching the purple plume of smoke erupt into the canopy above.

On second thought, maybe you should go back to swaying between the trees bottom-side-up. If you kept it up long enough, you might pass out, and then you wouldn't have to be awake for the mortifying rescue.

A fully trained soldier. Injured by a titan made from wood. During a routine training session. You would never live it down.

It wasn't long before you heard the familiar high-pitched sound of the wires whizzing through the air, the sharp hiss of the gas indicating someone going at full speed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable laughter and mockery of your pitiable state. But it never came.

Instead, there was a warm hand, expertly palpating your injured arm which still dangled uselessly from your side.

"It's dislocated," someone said flatly. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Levi," you exhaled, suddenly full of relief. Everything would be alright now.

You opened your eyes to find his face only inches away from yours, studying it with a frown. He raised his hand as though he was going to touch your face, but stopped short, frozen in mid air. "You're all scratched up." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it sounded strange somehow, too rough around the edges.

"It's nothing," you replied quickly. "Just a few cuts."

"It's not nothing," he said.

There was something in the intensity of his stare that made your face heat up. Or maybe it was still warm from your upside down escapades. You cleared your throat. "Can you help me get away from here? I'm kind of stuck."

Levi slowly lowered his hand, his gaze drifting away. "Press the right trigger." His hand grasped the other one.

"Now?"

"Now."

You pressed down on it, hard, and for a split second, you were falling, but then a strong hand gripped you, sweeping you out of mid-air. Your world turned upside down once again as you were swung over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, you dangled awkwardly over his back, your face brushing against his green cloak.

"Hold on if you can," Levi said firmly. Your fingers closed around the fabric of the cloak, gripping it tightly. Through it, you could feel the straps of his uniform at his upper back, and you held onto them with your good arm, steadying yourself as best as you could.

The air rushed past you as Levi darted through the forest, expertly changing the hand securing your legs every so often to allow him to shoot both hooks.

The uneven weight distribution didn't seem to bother him at all. That was Levi for you.

"You truly are the best," you told him, but it came out muffled from the cloak fluttering into your face every so often. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Levi didn't reply, but you could feel the muscles in his back tensing through the fabric. He had a lot of them.

Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you felt a bit dizzy. It was probably because you were flipped over again. And of course, your upturned brain chose this exact moment to make you think of your dream again.

There's something you love more than tea.

But before you could give it more thought, the wind around you died down, and Levi's feet touched down on the ground with a soft thud.

You had reached the edge of the forest.

Levi started walking, your body still draped over his shoulder, legs dangling over his chest.

"Um, you can let me down now. My legs are fine, I can walk," you said, a little flustered.

"You sure?" He sounded like he was frowning again.

"Yep. I'm positive."

Levi stopped and bent at the knees, carefully easing you down from his shoulder until your feet found solid ground again. You placed your good arm on his shoulder to support yourself against him, shifting to a more upright stance. When you looked up, you realized how close you were to him, your chest pressed to his, your noses almost touching. Somehow, you couldn't meet his gaze, but you didn't move away. You felt his heart beat against yours, rapid and wild.

Maybe it had been strenuous to carry you, after all. He'd made it seem so easy.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For rescuing me. And... " You trailed off. Your hand was still on his shoulder. You squeezed it. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble like that."

"Like I'm not used to it by now," he muttered. "We'll talk about this later. Let's get you treated first."

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes, relieved to find no trace of anger in them. There was something else there, something you couldn't place, but it made your chest overflow with warmth, and you suddenly felt like giving him a hug. So you did. You were so close already, all you had to do was wrap your good arm around him.

You felt the muscles in his back tense under your fingertips. They had to be sore from carrying you. You rubbed them gently until they relaxed into your touch.

"I'm so glad you saved me!" You beamed. There was so much gratitude inside you, you didn't know what to do with it. "Thank you so much, I mean it! And while we're being honest, I was starting to feel a bit scared up there. But when you showed up, I knew everything was gonna be just fine."

"Don't be stupid. You don't know that yet," Levi muttered. "You still have to get your arm examined."

"I know, I know." You gave his back a final pat before you stepped back.

Levi was staring at you with his usual non-expression, his gaze lingering on you even as you started walking to where you'd left the horses.

He was silent the entire way, letting you ramble on about your dreams of becoming a porcelain potter should the threat of the Titans ever be purged from this world.

That silence was abruptly broken the moment you tried to climb on your horse. "No."

You turned around, confused. "No?"

"I'm not letting you ride one-handed."

"Oh come on," you protested. "Have you seen me ride? I could do it free-handed! Besides, Jeanie and I are the best of friends!" You gave the horse's neck a rub.

"This is final," Levi said tersely.

"Fine, if you insist." You took Jeanie's reins. "That's gonna be one hell of a walk."

"We won't walk. You can ride with me."

You shot him a surprised look. "You serious?"

"It's safer that way." His voice was calm, reasonable.

You shrugged. "If you say so."

He made you sit in front of him, your back pressed against his chest, his arms on either side of you. It certainly made you feel safe. But as you calmed down, the pain in your left arm grew stronger, settling into a constant, deep ache that was hard to ignore. The pain sharpened in time with each stride of the horse, making your teeth clench against the waves of discomfort.

Levi seemed to sense your distress. "You're in pain," he noted. It wasn't a question.

"Kinda... getting worse," you gritted out.

You felt his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. "Almost there," he said.

By the time you got back to scout's headquarters, you were ready to have your arm sawed off if that would stop the pain.

Thankfully, the medic had a less drastic plan in mind.

"I'm going to reset your shoulder to get it back into its proper position. It won't be pleasant, but afterwards, it will feel much better."

"Sounds good," you exhaled. "Let's get it over with as quickly as possible."

The medic nodded. "Of course."

She pulled your arm slightly away from your body, her hands firm and steady. The pain spiked, intense enough to make your breath catch. You peered at Levi, who was leaning against the wall of the examination room, his eyes fixed on you. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, as if to encourage you. You nodded back, silently signaling that you were ready.

With a sudden movement, the medic rotated your arm, making the joint slide back into its socket with an audible pop. A sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder, making you gasp, but then it faded, leaving behind a sore, tender feeling which was much more bearable.

"You'll need to rest your arm for about two weeks. I'll get you a sling to help keep it immobilized during that time." The medic opened one of the cabinets, perusing its contents for the sling.

Levi pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. "You alright?"

"Much better," you said with a smile.

He nodded, letting out a soft breath.

The medic returned to help you put on the sling, carefully tying it behind your neck.

"There, all done." She smiled.

"Yay! Just in time for tea."

"There's not gonna be any teatime today." Levi's tone was sharp.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Why not?" You could really use some tea right now. There was still a dull ache in your shoulder, and now that the initial shock had worn off, you could feel the bruises throbbing on your left side where it had scraped against the wooden Titan.

"You're gonna tell me exactly how this could happen." Levi's arms were crossed as he scrutinized you, his eyes narrowed.

"What happened was…I almost flew straight into a training dummy." You scratched your head sheepishly. "I managed to avoid it at the last minute, but I still scraped it."

"Why?"

"I was distracted."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Distracted by what?"

"I had this strange dream last night, there was this talking cat, and–"

"It doesn't matter," he cut you off. "You don't get to be distracted. If that had been a real titan, you'd be dead."

You nodded. "I know."

"Even in this scenario, you still could've died. Slamming into a wooden wall at the speeds we're moving? If you hadn't dodged–"

"I know that," you said quickly. "It was stupid. Incredibly stupid. It won't happen again. I promise."

For only a brief second, his gaze met yours, brushing you so softly and lightly, it felt like a caress. Then his face hardened. "I don't know if you can. If things like that happen to you during training, maybe you shouldn't be with us on the next expedition."

You stared at him, shocked. "You don't mean that. I've always been nothing but focused during missions. The reason this happened was because it was just training, so I underestimated the danger. It was a mistake. I admit that. But it won't happen again."

"Tell this to Erwin," Levi said curtly. He turned to leave. "You will submit a report about this. So will I. He'll decide from here on. I trust him to make the right call."

The exchange left you frozen in place, stunned.

Going on expeditions was a scout's purpose. Why would he take that away from you?

You shook your head. There was no way you were going to let that happen. You'd talk to Erwin, of course. But first, you had to clear your head. Levi was right: as a scout, you couldn't afford to be distracted. That stupid, silly dream which, for some reason, just didn't let you go – you had to get it out of your mind. It was why you'd ended up in this mess in the first place, taking up space in your thoughts when you should have been focused.

But how? Just turning it over in your mind had done nothing but make it worse. That was when the conversation from this morning popped into your head.

Sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times.

You straightened up. Time to ask your favorite scientist for advice.

– –

You entered the lab. It always had a sort of singed smell about it, like something was burning, and today was no exception. The stains on the wall told you there might have been a minor explosion or two.

"Hey-yo!" Hange greeted you with a massive grin on their face, seemingly unbothered by the mess in their lab. As always, it was contagious, and you felt yourself smiling despite yourself.

"To what do I owe the honor?" They put down the beaker they were holding to give you their full attention. When their gaze landed on your sling, they shot you a questioning look, but quickly you waved it off. Later.

"Hange," you began, then hesitated. You took a deep breath. "Do you… Do you think there's something I love more than tea?"

Hange's grin widened. "Something… Or someone?"

You groaned. "Stop it. I'm serious here!"

"So am I. Dead serious, actually." They laughed heartily. "I genuinely think you might be onto something there."

"What do you mean?" You asked curiously.

"Well," they said in a long, drawn out way. "That's for you to figure out. Though I can certainly help, if that's what you want." There was a spark of mischief in their eyes.

"Yep, I definitely want that," you said eagerly. "That's why I'm here."

"Great!" Hange clapped their hands together and leaned forward excitedly.

"Let me start by asking you this: what have you done in your free time these past few months?"

You mulled it over for a few moments. "I guess I've been drawing a lot. Why?"

"That's a very good question! Why, indeed – why have you been drawing so much?"

You shrugged. "It was a good source of income. I needed the extra money."

"And for what, exactly?"

You tilted your head, unsure what Hange was getting at. "To buy Levi the perfect present for his birthday. You know that."

Hange smiled, satisfied. "Oh, you know I do."

You squinted at them, confusion etched into your features.

"Now answer me this: how have you been spending your beloved teatime recently?" They continued, gleefully unfazed by your puzzlement.

"I've been having tea together with Levi…?"

"Exactly!" Hange exclaimed, excitedly pumping her fist into the air.

"Yaay," you said, grinning at her enthusiasm, though you still didn't quite get it. "And that's interesting because…?"

"Don't worry, it should soon become crystal clear! You see, science is all about gathering knowledge and making observations, which in turn build up the basis of an hypothesis. Before we can call this hypothesis a fact, however, it has to be proven by running experiments. So let's do a little thought experiment, shall we?" Hange rubbed their hands in anticipation. There were burn holes in the sleeves of their lab coat.

"Let's imagine there's a giant fire ravaging our sacred headquarters. Can you do that for me?" You nodded. You could also easily imagine who would be at fault for the fire.

"You and Levi are the last people inside, the rest have already evacuated. Which one do you save – Levi or your treasured tea?"

You scrunched up your nose. "That's easy. Levi doesn't need saving."

"Sorry to say, but in this scenario, he absolutely does. Poor guy is passed out due to all the smoke. So which one will it be? You can only save one."

"That's so unrealistic," you protested.

"Just humor me here."

You threw up your hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'd save Levi, of course."

A face-splitting grin spread over Hange's features. "There you have your answer. You chose him over your prized tea, didn't you?"

Your eyes widened as the realization sunk in. The thing, no – the person you loved more than tea was...Levi.

You loved Levi.

A/n: Yes, it needed a Freudian cat dream and a near-death-experience, where you were literally only hanging by a thread, to get it through your thick skull that you are head over heels for that man :D (or should I say: head over shoulders? By which I of course mean Levi’s strong shoulders xD OK. I’m going to stop now.) Stay tuned for next chapter if you want to know the consequences of your realization xD

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi

#levi ackerman #levi #aot #levi x reader #levi aot #captain levi #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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debussy42 · 3 days ago

Text

The Morning’s Embrace

just a small piece that stirs me enough to get out of bed in the mornings:’)

The air in the barracks was crisp with the promise of a new day. The sun had risen early, its soft light spilling through the frost-patterned windows, illuminating the faint wisps of breath that escaped from beneath the blankets. The fire in the hearth had long since burned out, leaving the room cool but not unkind, like the lingering touch of a winter breeze.

You woke slowly, the sunlight brushing across your face like a gentle hand. The quiet murmur of the world outside—distant bird calls and the faint shuffle of feet in the corridors—tugged you gently from sleep. You blinked, taking in the familiar shapes of the room: the wooden beams above, the neatly folded jacket at the foot of your bed, the soft rise and fall of someone’s breath across the room.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, savoring the rare quiet. But the cold wooden floor beckoned, and with a reluctant sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your toes curling against the chill.

In the common room, the remnants of yesterday’s fire still carried the faint scent of ash and wood. Sasha was already there, crouched by the hearth with a loaf of bread balanced precariously on the edge of a long stick. Her face was illuminated by the glow of the rekindled flames, her expression one of utter concentration.

You stifled a laugh as you walked in. “Is that breakfast?”

She turned to you, her eyes bright and unapologetic. “It’s survival,” she said, her voice muffled by the corner of the bread she was already nibbling. “The bread’s from last night—Jean said it was too hard to eat, but I call that a challenge.”

“Or a hazard,” you replied, sitting down across from her.

“Hazard, challenge, same thing,” she said with a grin, pulling the bread back just before it could catch fire.

The room smelled warm and inviting now, a blend of toasting bread and faint embers. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in the simplicity of it—Sasha’s focus, the quiet hum of the fire, the slow way the morning unfolded.

The door creaked open, and Jean trudged in, his hair a mess and his face wearing an expression of someone who’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. “Why does the sun hate me?” he muttered, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

“Morning to you too,” you said, smirking.

“Morning?” he said, gesturing dramatically toward the window. “More like blinding.”

Connie appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. “Aw, Jean’s grumpy again. Guess the world didn’t revolve around him while he was sleeping.”

“Shut up, Connie,” Jean shot back, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

You watched the exchange with amused detachment as they bickered over something inconsequential—whether Connie had stolen Jean’s blanket last night, or maybe whether Jean had stolen Connie’s first.

Sasha, now armed with her perfectly toasted bread, chimed in with her own teasing commentary. “If you two spent half as much energy training as you do arguing, you’d be unstoppable.”

Connie gasped in mock betrayal. “Sasha?”

Mikasa entered next, her movements as fluid and composed as ever. She glanced around the room, taking stock of the small chaos unfolding before her, and then wordlessly set a kettle on the fire. Her presence immediately shifted the tone—calmer, quieter.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as if it were an invitation to start fresh.

Armin followed not long after, his hair slightly mussed and his expression pleasantly neutral. He greeted everyone with a polite nod before settling onto the floor with a small book tucked under his arm. “It’s a good day for reading,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“You always say that,” Connie pointed out, earning a small laugh from Armin.

“Because it’s always true,” Armin replied, opening his book.

It wasn’t until later, when the room had settled into a gentle hum of activity, that Levi appeared. His entrance was quiet, as always, his presence unassuming but commanding. He paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Slacking off already?” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

The room stilled briefly before everyone resumed their morning routines, muttering half-hearted excuses about needing a moment to wake up. But Levi’s gaze found you, and he gestured with a tilt of his head for you to follow him.

Outside, the air was sharp and bracing, the kind that woke you up in an instant. Levi stood by the edge of the training grounds, his hands tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed but alert.

“You’re quieter than usual this morning,” he said without turning around.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Just… taking it all in, I guess.

Levi nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not a bad habit. Most people don’t stop to look at what’s in front of them.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt deliberate. Levi wasn’t one to waste words, but his silences often spoke louder than anything he said.

“Do you ever think about what mornings like this mean?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes thoughtful. “They mean we’re still here,” he said simply. “That’s enough.”

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding and reassuring in a way you hadn’t expected. He looked at you for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in your face, before nodding slightly and heading back toward the barracks.

The morning carried on, slow and unhurried, with the group gradually coming to life. Jean and Connie eventually made their peace, Sasha shared the last of her bread, and Mikasa and Armin fell into an easy rhythm of conversation.

And as you sat by the hearth, your mug warm in your hands and Levi’s words lingering in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude—for the sunlight, for the stillness, and for the people around you who made mornings like this possible.

You glance back at Levi, wondering if he will ever come to join the group. Ruminating over his words, you feel a soft smile grace your lips as you soak in this moment around you.

“Mikasa, are you making tea?” You ask as you walk past her towards Armin, interest piqued by the book he’s reading.

Mikasa glances over her shoulder, her hands steady as she pours steaming water into a small teapot. “I am,” she replies softly. “Green tea. Do you want some?”

“I’d love some,” you say, the warmth in her offer adding to the coziness of the room. Mikasa nods once, her movements fluid and deliberate, as though every action is imbued with purpose.

You settle beside Armin, who barely looks up from his book as you approach, so absorbed is he in the pages. His lips are faintly parted, his brow furrowed in thought. You tilt your head to catch the title on the spine—“Essays on the Natural World.”

“Anything good in there?” you ask lightly, breaking the silence.

Armin startles, glancing up with wide blue eyes before relaxing into a soft smile. “Oh, good morning. It’s actually fascinating,” he says, lifting the book slightly. “This chapter is about migratory patterns. Did you know some birds navigate using the stars?”

Your interest is piqued, and you lean closer. “I didn’t. How do they do that?”

“It’s incredible,” he says, his excitement bubbling through. “Their instincts are so precise, but what’s even more interesting is how they adapt when conditions change. It’s this combination of innate guidance and learned behavior.”

The warmth of his enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself pulled into his quiet awe of the natural world. Sasha ambles over, nibbling on the last corner of her toasted bread.

“Birds and stars, huh?” she says, squatting down next to you both. “I mean, I guess that’s cool, but honestly, I just want to know how they find their way back to food.”

Armin chuckles softly. “That’s part of it too. Resource-driven navigation is a whole field of study.”

“I feel like Sasha would study it just to steal their tricks,” you tease, shooting her a grin.

Sasha grins back, unashamed. “Hey, survival is survival. If I could fly my way to a bakery, I wouldn’t even need you all anymore.”

“You’re not flying anywhere with that bread habit,” Jean says as he strides closer, his hair slightly neater than before but his perpetual exasperation intact.

“I’d outfly you, horseface,” Sasha retorts, her tone playful.

“Will you two ever stop?” Mikasa says, her voice cutting through the chatter with calm precision. She sets the teapot down on the table, steam curling like whispers of warmth in the air.

You take a cup gratefully, the ceramic warm against your hands. The taste is earthy and comforting, a quiet moment shared among friends.

As the room fills with soft conversation, you glance back toward the door, wondering if Levi might return. His absence lingers like a shadow, but not a heavy one. His words still echo faintly in your mind—“They mean we’re still here. That’s enough.”

The thought brings a soft smile to your lips. He’s not one for gatherings like this, you think, but his presence is always felt in quieter ways: a brief glance, a curt nod, a word that holds more weight than it seems.

“Mikasa, how do you always get this tea perfect?” you ask, turning back to her.

Mikasa shrugs modestly. “It’s just practice.”

Armin chimes in. “No, it’s more than that. Mikasa has a way of making even small things matter. Tea’s no exception.”

Her cheeks tint faintly pink, but she doesn’t respond, her usual stoic grace masking any embarrassment.

The group settles into a natural rhythm, with Connie trying—and failing—to best Jean in a game of cards, Sasha intermittently chiming in with advice that’s as questionable as it is entertaining. Armin reads aloud snippets from his book, drawing curious glances from Mikasa and occasional sarcastic commentary from Jean.

And through it all, the sunlight grows stronger, spilling over the table and onto the faces of the people around you. There’s a warmth here that doesn’t come from the tea or the fire—it’s the kind of comfort that only comes from being with people who make the weight of the world a little easier to bear.

As you sip your tea and watch them all, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment, for this morning, for this group of misfits who have somehow become a family.

You look at Mikasa, smiling softly in an attempt to display your gratitude.

“Thank you, the tea is so warm and filling.” Wrapping your fingers around the tea cup, you use it as a feeble attempt to stave away the coldness creeping up to my fingers. You huddle further into my blanket in hopes of finding last moments of warmth before the day beckons you out. Humming thoughtfully, you look at Mikasa once again.

“Mikasa, do you mind if I pour an extra cup? I can think of a certain… Captain who would love the tea.” You chuckle lightly, already envisioning the Captain with his cup of tea that seems to be his sole means of company, if not for the occasional Erwin and Hange there to fill the silence.

Mikasa tilts her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Of course. I’m sure Levi wouldn’t turn it down,” she says quietly, her voice steady but with a hint of amusement.

You nod, grateful for her understanding, and carefully pour an extra cup, letting the rich aroma waft upward. It’s funny, you think, how Levi—always so composed, so controlled—seems to soften with small things like this. Tea isn’t just fuel for him; it’s grounding, a brief moment to pause and be alone with his thoughts. You imagine him sitting there, back against the cool wall of the barracks, fingers curled around the warm ceramic, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sips, lost in thought.

You chuckle softly to yourself, already seeing it in your mind’s eye—the quiet, deliberate way he takes his tea, savoring the flavor and the warmth, more content in solitude than most. It’s strange, how something as simple as a cup of tea could feel so personal for someone like Levi.

“It might help him,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, though Mikasa picks up on it easily.

She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Captain doesn’t like to rely on others… but sometimes, even he needs reminders.”

You look down at your own cup, your fingers gently circling the rim. The warmth is soothing, grounding. You can’t help but wonder what it might be like to offer something so simple and yet so meaningful—to bring a small moment of comfort to someone who rarely asks for it.

“Thank you,” you say again, your gratitude genuine as you glance at Mikasa, your smile softening. ��For everything—this, and everything else.”

Mikasa regards you quietly, her dark eyes calm but perceptive. “You’ve been through a lot,” she says simply. “You deserve moments like this.”

And with that, you huddle deeper into your blanket, warmth spreading from your fingers to your chest, the lingering scent of tea filling the air. You hum softly, letting the moment stretch a little longer, a tiny oasis before the demands of the day pull you back into motion.

As you sit there, cup in hand, you can’t shake the thought of Levi, alone but not truly alone—holding that same fragile warmth you now feel in your own hands. Maybe, just maybe, something as simple as tea could bridge that quiet gap between solitude and connection.

You pause for a brief moment, your fingers tightening slightly around the two steaming cups. The warmth feels both comforting and slightly foreign against the chill creeping up your spine. The ache in your bones protests against standing, but the thought of Levi—alone up there, just as you expected—makes you take one deliberate step forward. You wrestle with the decision for a heartbeat longer. Would it really be such a disruption to his quiet, solitary space?

A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth despite yourself. He’ll never let you live it down. You can already imagine the snide remarks, the sharp edge to his words when he’s forced to pull away from his thoughts, only to face you standing there with a cup in hand.

You shake your head slightly, stifling the quiet laugh bubbling at your throat, and gently step away from the warmth of the blanket cocoon. The cold air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you’ve just left behind. With each deliberate step forward, your eyes flick down the hall toward the top floor balcony—Levi’s usual spot. You know it well by now, a place where he often finds a small pocket of peace away from the chaos that usually surrounds everyone else.

Softening your steps, you tread lightly down the hallway, the clink of porcelain cups echoing slightly with each movement. The steam curls lazily from the two cups you carry, tendrils of warmth weaving upward and dissipating into the dim glow of morning. You pause for a moment, your fingers lingering slightly on the ceramic, the warmth grounding you before you continue.

But just as you reach the corner leading toward the balcony, you hear it—the familiar voices. Commander Erwin and Hange—their voices carried softly through the hall, mingling with the hum of conversation as they discuss something in low tones.

Your steps falter for just a heartbeat. You hadn’t anticipated running into them, and now the thought of barging into Levi’s space feels like it might be unnecessarily intrusive. You glance back toward the cozy scene you’ve just left—Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Jean—those you’ve come to know so well. The warmth and laughter lingering in that room seem miles away from where you stand now.

But curiosity pulls at you. Is Levi really here this early in the morning? You bite your lip gently, unsure if you should continue. Still, you take a careful breath, then adjust your grip on the cups, moving slightly closer to the corner. Soft murmurs drift down the hallway, too low to make out clearly, though you can hear Hange’s usual infectious enthusiasm bubbling just beyond your reach.

With a quiet sigh, you gather your resolve and step forward again, light but steady, your gaze fixed ahead. You weave carefully past the corner, your attention momentarily drawn toward the sound—but soon, your eyes settle on something else entirely.

Levi.

He stands there, as expected, at the railing of the top floor balcony. His posture is straight, composed, but something about him—about this moment—feels different. The way he leans slightly against the stone, the subtle tension in his shoulders that betrays the usual air of calm. His fingers curl slightly around the railing, his gaze distant, lost in something only he sees.

You pause again for a heartbeat, two cups still clutched in your hands, warmth spilling into the space between you. It’s not the intrusion you had anticipated—he doesn’t seem annoyed, not yet at least. His dark eyes shift slightly, though he doesn’t move. You get the sense he feels your presence, even before you speak.

“Levi,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence between you, hesitant but steady.

His head turns slightly at the sound, his gaze sharpening, though there’s no real irritation in his expression—just quiet acknowledgment. He studies you briefly, those dark eyes of his flicking from your face to the cups you hold out. The tension in his stance loosens slightly, though only barely.

“I brought you some tea,” you offer carefully, your tone soft, almost tentative, unsure if he’ll accept or brush it aside. The two cups in your hands are still warm, the steam curling in gentle spirals.

Levi’s lips press together for a moment, as though considering whether to dismiss your gesture outright, but eventually, his eyes soften slightly—just enough. Without a word, he takes the cup from you, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment. The gesture feels quiet, deliberate, though not uncomfortable.

“You think I need tea this early?” he mutters, his voice low but with a faint undertone of amusement—just enough to keep it from being entirely sarcastic.

You smile faintly, watching as he brings the cup to his lips, the warmth seeping into his fingers. “I thought you might appreciate it,” you reply gently, voice light but sincere. “Even you deserve a little quiet sometimes.”

He grunts softly in response, a subtle shift in his posture, though his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer—silent, contemplative. His expression is guarded, but something in his stance speaks to quiet gratitude. Not the kind he often shows outwardly, but enough to make you feel you’ve done something right.

You lean slightly against the stone railing next to him, letting the silence settle between you—an understanding, unspoken connection built on quiet moments like this. The sun filters through the soft morning light, casting a warm glow across the horizon, and you allow yourself to enjoy the moment—watching Levi in this rare, still moment.

He sips at the tea once more, his eyes drifting upward toward the distant sky. For once, there’s no edge to his expression—just a fleeting softness, something you rarely get to see.

It’s a reminder, you think to yourself, that even someone like Levi, who thrives on solitude, can find a quiet comfort in simple gestures—like tea, like shared silence—if only someone gives him the space to accept it. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve done enough to earn that space today.

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