#Shaking Ray Levis

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

Starting Tuesday, August 15, 3rd-12th graders can catch two fun programs from National Park Partners every week featuring puppets, stories and art about the historical figures represented in History Funhouse, presented by Shaking Ray Levis. #ChattLibrary #Wayneorama @ChattLibrary #ChattanoogaTN

[her-devils-advocate]

The hour in-between

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff

summary: Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier and weakest sleeper. You’re not surprised to find him sneaking out of bed to be reunited with his paperwork, but you are touched that he still holds you in his arms until you have reached a deep slumber before he slips away.

Tonight you catch him returning to your side, determined to spend time with him before the world wakes.

word count: 1,301

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55489207

The gentle tapping of the rain hitting the window greets you as you slowly wake, blearily rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. You turn your vision towards the window, watching as the moon's silver rays peek through the gaps in the ageing curtains. You can’t gauge its position, but from the owl happily cooing outside, you can guess the hour is still late. It’s too late for most to be awake as the headquarters lies still, nestled safely within the walls and protecting its dedicated soldiers as they rest. 

All but one, you surmise as you notice the distinct lack of weight around your waist and the cold spot in the bed next to you.

The dim candlelight that bleeds in from the connected office, flowing through the slightly ajar door, confirms your thoughts. You roll your eyes as you snuggle deeper into the cosy blanket you are wrapped up in. After all, if he wants to forfeit such a luxury, then it’s only fair that you benefit from all of its plush -and expensive- fabric. 

Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier and weakest sleeper. You’re not surprised to find him sneaking out of bed to be reunited with his paperwork, but you are touched that he still holds you in his arms until you have reached a deep slumber before he slips away to his desk, only returning to your sleeping form at an unholy hour in the morning. 

You wish that he could fully relax, to enjoy the luxuries of sleep for longer than a few hours each night, yet no matter what either of you do to try and help, it continues to elude him. The scars run too deeply for the issue to be fixed that easily.

You quickly close your eyes as the light is suddenly snuffed from the world, the soft padding of bare feet on the cold wood grows clearer the closer he gets.

The creaking of the bed echoes around the deathly quiet room, the whispered swears that follow bring a small smile to your lips as you feel the mattress beside you dip to accompany him. You do your best to pretend to sleep as he slips close behind you, bringing a strong and toned arm around your form to pull you closer to his chest.

You feel his body relax against yours, a small sigh brushing past your ear as he nuzzles his face against your neck. These hours are just for you and him, where all the mental walls have been lowered without worrying about someone else peering past them. Where you can both be regular humans, not soldiers with appearances to keep up and masks to hold in place.

All things considered, these are your favourite hours. 

You would never admit out loud how you’ve slowly adapted to waking up just in time to catch him returning, to feel him curl around you and to finally relax and let himself be just Levi. Within these four walls, once the light of day has faded, you get to love without worry and to experience love the way the people you fight to protect experience it.

“I know you’re awake, you’re such a shit actor.” 

The murmured words cause you to jump and you can feel his smirk against your skin. Levi slowly repositions himself, his elbow digging into the pillow as he now leans over you instead. You can’t help but stare up at him, taking in the way his dark fringe hangs down over his face. The way the silver of his eyes seems to glow within the light of the moon. You know he would scoff at the thought, but he looks angelic as he looks down at you.

“What gave it away?” Your words come out reluctantly, your body still shaking off the embers of sleep.

“Most people don’t have a dopey smile on their face when they sleep. Your breathing also gave you away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ackerman.” You reply with a small pout, while you do your best to fight back the mentioned smile.

“Uh huh,” Levi’s eyes shine with affection despite his usual flat expression. His hand finds your own among the sea of fabric between you, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You watch as he casts his eyes over your thoroughly tucked-in state, his eyebrows rising with silent amusement.

“Will I be getting any of that back?”

“Depends,” you keep your voice light as you pull the ends of the cover closer to your chin, embracing the warmth he’s trying to reclaim. 

“On what?”

“Will you be staying for the rest of the night? Or will I snatch this blanket back in a few hours after you sneak off to betray me for paperwork? Cause I’m very comfy, you know.”

His eyes soften as he slowly pulls at the blanket until he can slip alongside you underneath it. You happily shuffle closer to press up against his broad chest once more, to feel that missing weight return to your waist as his arm gently settles into place. You wrap yourself around him as much as you can, using both your arms and legs to cling to him tightly.

As you wiggle your leg to get comfortable, a small hiss falls from his lips as he jolts. You look up at him with a mixture of confusion and concern, scared that he had been injured somehow.

“The fuck? You had the entire blanket and your toes are still like shards of ice.”

Concern melts into amusement as you slowly bring your foot closer to his calf, taunting him as your eyes lock onto his to meet his harsh glare.

“Don’t you dare. Do that again and I will be doing paperwork for the rest of the night.” Despite his words, his tone is light as he dangles the weak threat over your head, causing you to cling to him even tighter with a light laugh.

“I promise I won’t do it again, tonight at least.”

You get a reluctant sigh in response as Levi idly draws circles onto the flesh of your shoulder, slowly beckoning sleep closer once more. You blink, trying to fight off the sensation and willing your body to disobey its desire to fall asleep once more. You want to spend as much time in his arms as possible, sleeping through the domestic moment doesn’t count when it deprives you of seeing the rare soft smile on his face.

It seems that he agrees as his low voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“What are you doing awake anyway? It’s late and Erwin expects to see us at a stupidly early time tomorrow, you should be getting as much rest as you can.”

You let out a small snort, of course he would have a gentle lecture about sleeping habits ready.

“Pot, meet kettle?” You bite your lip to prevent yourself from giggling in his face when he moves to give your forehead a small yet strong poke. He soothes the area with a gentle kiss, his lips featherlight as they press against your forehead.

“Okay, okay…I woke up to wait for you to return.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, missing the way his features soften at your bashful confession, your tongue betraying your mind with the reluctant reveal. You have always been the more verbally affectionate one in the relationship, yet you still have your moments where words and vulnerability are a challenge. 

His hand cradles the back of your head, pulling it closer while his fingers tangle in your hair. His voice is now a sleepy whisper as his body and mind finally begin to relax. 

“Well, I’m here now. So you can finally get some proper rest.”

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 1

Summary: After an injury causes you to lose your spot in the World Figure Skating Championship your last hope falls into the hands of Levi Ackerman, a former Olympic competitor.

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: Injury, major themes of depression and hopelessness. 18+ mdni

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Starting off with a huge thank you to @tobbi-loves-levi for helping me throughout the process of making this fic and always listening to me yap about my ideas. This is my first chaptered fanfic and I'm very excited to share it~

dedicated song - dividers 1/2 - masterlist

You cry out as your hip collides with the ground. Rolling into a sitting position you pull your left leg up by the knee. Just resting your blade on the ice sends another shock of pain through your ankle and up your leg. You let out a hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. 

You refuse to believe it, deep down you know you just sustained a serious injury. You tell yourself it's not that bad.

get up.

walk it off. 

Come on. 

Your breathing staggers as you twist your body and pull yourself into a kneel, your good foot anchoring on the ice ready to stand back up. The pain is excruciating. 

“Stay Down!” your coach shouts as she races towards you. “Sit back down.” She demands, and you listen, carefully pulling your weight onto your left hip, carefully settling back down onto the ice. 

Coach Tarasov bends down, instructing you to extend your leg out. When you do she carefully applies light pressure to your boot, only nudging it a little to confirm her fears. Your hand immediately flies over your mouth, you curse and wince in pain. “Not good,” She breathes out “Let’s get you up and off the ice” she says, her voice stern and serious, you know now that it’s really bad, you don't want to believe it.

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

This was devastating.

Mid February, four weeks before the World Figure Skating Championship. It was just like any other practice. today you were doing triple toe loops and landed wrong.

You can’t contain your sobs as your coach helps you up. She urges you to hold your foot up while she pulls you to the rink’s exit. When you finally sit down on the bench you notice how tight your boot feels. Holding back your sobs causes you to shake as Coach Tarasov kneels in front of you to untie your skate. “I’m just going to look at it.” She tries to sound comforting, but you can hear the disappointment that laces her words, the acceptance in her tone. Like she knew you were done right then and there without even seeing it. 

Your panicked sob catches in your throat as she pulls the boot off, every surge of pain was just as bad as the last. You can't look, you keep your eyes on your coach. When she peels back your nylon sock she stops and stares for a second before letting out a sigh and dropping her head down in defeat. “You need an X-ray,” she says plainly, only confirming your worst fear. “You can't drive, I'll call an ambulance.” she leans back and requests an ice pack from the rink employee standing over the two of you, observing. You're only just now noticing he was there.

“Stay calm, we don't know anything yet.” You know she's lying. You pick your head up and see your fellow competitors have stopped to watch. Most look shocked, some seem to be showing pity. You lock eyes with your friend and fellow contestant Mikasa Ackerman, her eyes well with tears as she watches you. That’s when you finally accept that your dreams are ruined. 

***

You stare up at the blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling, waiting for the results the X-ray ordered to rule out a fracture. Arms folded over your chest, you simmer in the acceptance that everything you worked for your whole life is gone.

This was your first year qualifying and being invited to participate in the World Championship, you knew after your performances in the Grand Prix and Nationals that you had secured your place and a chance to take gold at Worlds. Competitive skaters everywhere spend their lives training and competing for the chance to get where you were, just as you had, only for one accident to take it all away from you and hand it off to the next person. 

You blink back more tears, easily warding them off since the initial shock of everything drained you. The uncertainty of your career plagued your mind. The excitement and determination to compete was gone, replaced with the dread of agonizing failure. All you wanted to do was go home and sulk. An apartment you rented in the city chosen to host this season’s training sessions with a handful of competitors. Everything reminded you of your loss, even the place designed for you to decompress at the end of the day, your apartment was a representation of the things you endured and achieved to make it to the World Championship to begin with, now it’s just a roof over your head to house you while you heal and watch your dreams slip through your fingers like sand. You're wiping away tears with the sleeve of your shirt as the doctor enters the room. 

He strides into the room, greeting you as he pinned your X-ray up and flicked the light on to illuminate the image. You pull yourself upright on the bed, even in this moment your chest fills with hope for good news. “It’s not fractured,” he says, pulling a pen from his breast pocket. You sigh out in relief. A fracture or break was the worst case scenario, and at least you’re safe from that. He lifts his arm, extending his pen out to the board and pointing at the areas of your ankle with speckled white spots “what you’re looking at is a grade two moderate ankle sprain, you have some torn ligaments” he explains, slowly circling his pen over the white spots highlighted by the bright glow behind the picture. “Based on your X-Ray, swelling, and pain level at intake, we’ll have you in a boot for two to four weeks.” Your heart sinks again, it’s not like you forgot that this injury took something from you, but you got excited too fast hearing it wasn’t as bad as you originally feared. You listen and nod as he goes through the details of the first phase of healing, just as you imagined, stay off of it, never put pressure on it, keep it iced and elevated. “After the boot comes off, you’ll start immediately with physical therapy. They will determine when you have the green light to return to your usual activities.” 

You stare at him, feeling it all come back. “Physical therapy? Isn’t that a little intense for just a sprain?” You plead, your voice shaking again. 

He points again to your X-ray, and those damned white streaks on your ankle. “This is not an injury to be taken lightly, I strongly recommend you stick to your treatment plan to prevent possible irreversible damage. Especially as an athlete.” He warns. 

You get your boot, and you’re promptly discharged and wheeled out to coach Tarasov’s car. They help you into the passenger seat and that’s it. You’re left to face this all on your own now. 

Before you leave, you hand coach your discharge documents and lean your head on the window. The sound of the pages turning as she skims through sends pangs straight to your chest. She rests a hand on your shoulder but you refuse to face her. “I’ll make the calls, I need copies of this and your X-rays” she said with caution. 

You cried the entire drive home. 

***

The three weeks of recovery before you’re cleared to take the boot off could be described as nothing less than hell. You barely left your bed for the first five days, you ignored calls, you didn’t take care of yourself. Your parents found out online, you only answered their persistent calls so they would stop worrying. Days started blending together quickly, when you weren’t crying you felt nothing, even your phone proved itself a shitty distraction. Your name was everywhere, the news of your injury and drop from the championship chased you on every app you used. 

After a week you deleted all your social media.

The start of the second week it dawned on you that the competition was just over two weeks away, and you wouldn’t be there. It made you sick to even think about watching it and keeping up with the scores. Several times a day you wonder how you would have done had your injury never happened. Would you have taken gold? Thinking on it now, if you knew this was the alternative you would have been happy to place at all, just to be there. You took it all for granted, high on success. 

At the end of the third week, you’re out of the boot and booked to start physical therapy, just this week you started eating and taking care of yourself again, you leave the blinds and windows open to let in some fresh air. Every step you take still reminds you of what you could’ve had, you walk with a limp. 

***

You decide to watch the Women’s singles program only, anything more would have only twisted the knife. You watch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues. 

You feel genuinely happy to watch Mikasa perform, part of you was living through her as you watched. Mostly you’re happy she gets to experience this for herself, you know how much it means to her.

She placed 6th overall, you cried tears of joy for her.

***

You’re given an estimate of eight to twelve weeks of physical therapy. when you do the math, you can’t hold back your grin. Even the longest course of recovery would have you back on ice just in time for the start of the next skating season. You decide right then that you’ll be back on the ice competing in next year's World Championship no matter what it took.

Mid April you finish the first phase of physical therapy, three weeks of balance training taking a decent chunk of confidence from you. to put it bluntly, it was horrible. The pain was almost completely gone, it only hurt during specific exercises. Your balance was abysmal, any added weight beyond walking had your ankle shaking. You knew you could do it, you just had to make it past this part. 

Early May, during strength training with your physical therapist, your phone buzzes in your pocket. After your program you excuse yourself for a much needed break and check your phone to see a text from Mikasa, you catch yourself smiling. It’s been weeks since anyone reached out to you. 

Mikasa ⛸️💨

“Been too long, I miss you! Free for a quick lunch today?” 

You can barely contain your happiness, it shocks you how quickly you text back, letting her know what time you’d be available, and to your surprise it works out. You agree on a location and after your session you rush home to get ready, taking extra time to ensure you don’t look like a husk of your former self when you see her for the first time in over two months. 

When you approach her at the table, she stands up and immediately pulls you into a tight hug, gripping your shirt in her fists as she squeezes. You congratulate her on her placement in the championship and quickly you’re catching up on everything the two of you missed during your time apart. 

“So, how’s that going?” Mikasa asks about your physical therapy after you mention that you're about half way through, almost cleared to begin off-ice sport specific exercises. 

You look down, biting your lip before you respond “honestly? Not well.” You begin explaining how you’ve felt the past couple of weeks, even mentioning that you decided to return to competitive skating this upcoming July. “It doesn't feel like it’s enough. My ankle is still shit, it’s enough to gain back mobility but I can tell I’m not where I need to be.” Your voice shakes a little. Mikasa is a wonderful listener, she never breaks eye contact or interrupts, she lets you unload all your grief. “I know I can do better, they won’t let me push myself, my home based exercises are strict.” You explain. 

Mikasa doesn’t say much, and that’s okay, you were happy just to be here with her after weeks of seclusion, only leaving your apartment for physical therapy. It took weight off your shoulders to talk with someone about what you were going through, and no one could understand you better in this moment than Mikasa. 

When your lunch arrives the conversation dulls down to casual pleasant tidbits of information of Mikasa’s life post competition, eventually she tells you that she’s recompeting herself. You couldn’t be more happy for her. 

Somewhere in the endless chatting you can tell something is on her mind, she detaches from the conversation a couple times, staring down at the table before snapping out of it and apologizing. Eventually she excuses herself. “Sorry, I’ll be right back” she promises and makes her way outside. Your brows stay knit as you crane your body to watch her walk out until she’s just out of view. You sigh when you turn back, that was definitely odd, but you decide maybe it’s best not to press when she comes back. 

She’s gone for no longer than five minutes, when she sits back down it’s like nothing was ever bothering her to begin with. You’re tempted to ask but it couldn’t be too bad if she looked this relieved coming back. The two of you finish your meals and send your bills off to be paid, she grins at you from across the table. 

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mikasa quickly reaches in her bag, grabbing her planner and pen from the bottom and dropping it on the table, she quickly flips to one of the back pages and scribbles something down fast. “Here.” She says, ripping the sheet from its binding and sliding it across the table towards you. 

You raise a brow and stare at the page that’s text side down. After a moment you finally bite “what is this?” You ask, pulling it towards you and lifting it up, looking back towards Mikasa. 

“My cousin is a rehabilitation coach,” she begins, letting her excitement take over. “For competitive figure skaters. He agreed to work with you for me.” 

You have no words, you just blink at her. When you finally take a quick glance at the page you notice a phone number and email address written across the page “Mikasa, this is..” you don’t know how to feel, this came up so quick “I don’t know-.. I appreciate-“ 

She cuts you off “Please take the offer, I insist. He has an opening.” She says “Levi’s great, high success rate. I can get you more information if you need it.” 

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach “Levi..Ackerman..?” you breathe out, now staring down at the paper in your hands. You should have known he was related to Mikasa. Hell, you don’t even know why you never thought about it to begin with. They share the same last name. “He was injured at the Olympics all those years ago.” you think aloud, unable to take your eyes off the page. 

“That’s the one,” Mikasa beams “and he doesn’t like to talk about it. So maybe don’t start with that when you call him later.” 

You look up from the page at Mikasa “I don’t know what to say.” Truthfully you didn’t even know rehabilitation coaches even existed, your current coach and physical therapist never mentioned that as an option. 

“Don’t say anything. Just call him later, and tell me how that goes.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were nothing but gentle. 

When the two of you eventually get up and walk out together you stop in the parking lot to give Mikasa one final hug before you split again. “Thank you so much.” you whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, pulling back and letting her hands rest just above your elbows, “and don’t be a stranger anymore.”

***

When you arrive home, you catch yourself staring down at the contact information that was given to you. Nervousness didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. This wasn’t just any coach, or another physical therapist. It was Levi Ackerman. He was a part of the best figure skating pairs, finally making it to The Olympics with his partner before the accident. 

You haven’t even come close to a skating rink since nearly breaking your ankle almost three months ago now. Working with a rehabilitation coach to get to your previous level of skating wasn’t even a fleeting thought. Hell, you didn’t even know those kinds of coaches existed until today. What if you were just wasting his time? Surely a coach like him is a privilege, right? Letting your nerves get the best of you, the contact info sits idly on your bedside table as you drift off into a world of ice and gold medals. 

***

The next morning, your dream fresh in your mind, you grab the contact from your nightstand. Ignoring the blaring anxiety, you dial the number without too much thought. The more you think about it, the more inviting backing out feels. The dial tone sounds, causing you to begin pacing your apartment. No more blaming the injury, no more blaming the physical therapy program. You couldn’t just keep sitting around, wondering about the what ifs when you were handed a golden ticket. You’d be crazy to pass this up, even if it was just a chance. 

“Took you long enough.” A rich warm voice answers the phone, stopping you dead in your tracks in the kitchen. How the hell did he even know it was you? How were you even meant to respond to a greeting like that anyway. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.” He states

“Uh, no.” You reply quickly, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter to give your free hand something to do. “No I didn’t change my mind, I’m interested.” you cursed yourself, trying to sound so formal. This was the type of thing coach Tarasov always took care of, you were completely out of your element. 

“Great,” he says, you have trouble reading his tone but you try not to think too much of it. Over the phone you hear a series of keyboard clicks and your phone buzzes against your ear “I sent a couple things to your email,” did Mikasa already give him your information? “Go ahead and authorize your physical therapy records over, send me copies of your X-rays and prescribed treatment plan, and sign the following documents.” He lists off “after that, I’ll work up a schedule compatible with your PT, I’ll be in contact.” 

If you were nervous before there wasn’t a word to describe how you feel now. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you.” 

“Have a nice day.” he says in the same tone, your phone beeps to indicate the call has ended.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep (please let me know if i missed you and ill add you on to ch 2)

[abiatackerman]

Morning kisses and pancakes

The sun's gentle rays filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You're cocooned in blankets, still lost in dreams, while Levi lies beside you, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath as he sleeps peacefully, hugging you tightly.

As the soft light of the sun falls on both of your faces, Levi's eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft light. His gaze lands on you, and for a moment, he forgets the world outside these four walls. Your hair spills across the pillow, and your lips are slightly parted. Vulnerable. His heart clenches.

After a long tiring week in the survey corps, you and Levi have returned to your "HOME" for the weekend.

The "HOME" which is a little bit away from the town and people. The "HOME" which both of you made together with love....

He carefully untangles himself from you, trying not to disturb your sleep. Quietly, he slips out of bed and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast, a simple yet meaningful way he expresses his love. About an hour later, Levi returns with a tray filled with pancakes and a few pieces of fruit. He learned to cook after you started dating, knowing how much you dislike it, especially since you’re not very good at it.

He smiles slightly when he sees you're still asleep. He sets the tray down on the nightstand, then gently bends down and kisses your neck as he mumbles against your skin.

"Doll, wake up."

You just shake your head and hug his arm in return. Levi gently ruffles your hair as he kisses your cheek.

"Wake up, baby. I have made breakfast for you."

Levi has just called you baby, making you slowly open your eyes. He is extremely affectionate in private.

"I'm a horrible wife."

Levi gently kisses your forehead as you say that.

"No, you're not. You worked hard and you're exhausted. You don't have to cook or prepare breakfast."

He gently pulls you into a sitting position. Then, he picks up a strawberry from the bowl to feed you. You smile widely and eagerly take the strawberry in your mouth.

"What did I do to get a wonderful husband like you?"

"You married me, even though I'm a grumpy old bastard."

Levi mumbles as he gently brushes his fingers over your cheek in a soft, loving way.

"I love grumpy men... You know that."

You chuckle as you reply and take a pancake he made and moan.

"You're such a... Damn good chef."

"Yes, I know."

Levi says as your moans fill the air. Your moans are driving him mad. He can't help it. Every time you make a tiny noise of pleasure he can't help but get hard immediately.

"Doll, don't make those kind of sounds while I'm feeding you."

He speaks in a raspy voice making you laugh.

"Why not? Are you getting turned on?"

"I'm always-"

Levi quickly catches himself and bites the inside of his cheek, preventing himself from just blurting out the truth.

"I'm not getting turned on, Doll. That's gross."

Levi lies though you know he's rock hard by now already.

"You know um, though you were rough last night and that you're hard now....."

You speak as you gulp the last piece of pancake of your hand.

"We can have another love making session after breakfast... What do you say?"

"Yes, Doll. We can have another one."

Levi says in a teasing tone as he eats a pancake, he made himself.

"But only after we finish the weekly cleaning...."

You groan immediately.

"Oh Levi... Come on! Can't we just skip the cleaning for this week?"

"Doll, you know I have OCD. I can't just skip the cleaning."

Levi says in a slightly stern tone, though his eyes are soft . He eats the last pancake as he speaks again.

"It's only for a few hours and I promise, we can have another session today once we're done."

"Nope, we'll clean... But no sex. I'll be tired."

You say in a pissed tone. Because you know Levi's allergic to dust and that he will never skip cleaning.

Levi smirks slightly as he knows he has won the argument.

"Yes, Doll. No sex after the cleaning ."

He says though he knows you aren't being serious about no sex.

Because you both know, you can't keep your hands off him and he can't keep his hands off you......

[deestorytime]

I know you only do Levi fanfics but can you please PLEASE do gojo x reader fluff. Spending a morning with him PLEASE 🙏

Sure!🙂🙂🙂

------------------------------------------------------------------

You stretched lazily under the warm blankets, the soft rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and gently hitting your face. Not quite ready to let go of sleep, you groaned and pulled the blanket over your head, wrapping yourself into a cocoon. But there was something else that was keeping you from your sleep, the sound of someone humming. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you slowly sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep away. With a sleepy shuffle, you slipped out of bed, the oversized shirt you “borrowed” from Gojo hanging loosely on your frame. You followed the melody into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Gojo greeted, his voice a little too loud for the morning. You spotted him at the counter. He was in sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hair a bit messy from sleep. Yet somehow, he still managed to look perfect as stirred something with the utmost seriousness. 

A soft smile spread across your lips. “What are you up to?” you asked, suppressing a yawn as you leaned against the wall.

He turned, grinning. “Making you breakfast,” he declared proudly, holding up the bowl he was working on. “And by breakfast, I mean… cereal! With an extra dash of love.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head. “Cereal? Really going all out today, huh?” you teased.

He pouted dramatically, turning back to his masterpiece. “Hey, don’t knock cereal. It’s the breakfast of champions.” He paused for effect, then exaggeratedly pointed to the bowl. “And I added fruit. See? Fancy~”

You peered over to spot slices of strawberries and bananas floating on top of the milk. “Wow, I’m impressed,” you teased, stepping closer. 

Gojo’s grin widened, and with a wink, he handed you the bowl. “Taste test?"

You took the spoon from his hand and scooped up a bite, pausing with your hand on your chin before smiling. "Mmm, I think you’ve outdone yourself, Satoru. Definitely five stars." 

His face lit up. “See? I told you I could be a culinary genius. And it only tastes this good because I made it for you.”

With a soft laugh, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest as his arm slid around your waist. “Thank you, Chef Gojo. You’ve really spoiled me today.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you, babe.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl the only sound in the room. “I could really get used to mornings like this,” you whispered.

Gojo pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Then it’s decided. We will eat cereal everyday!”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, knowing full well you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thegrimreaper-probably]

can...can we have a bit more of a detailed story on gravity falls x plant monster reader??? like...i dont know...Mabel trying to feedvit sugar (does not end well) or where do they come from...or even better, SLOOOOOOWLY growing back to their original size

Gravity Falls x reader part two I used different pronouns, Twoey has no gender. I used he/it/she/they. Gender is irrelevant.

After being shrunk by the shrink ray living back in the Mystery Shack was definitely…different. Stan wasn’t someone I cared too much about, it wasn’t hate or anything. Maybe it was hunger, I mean since Ford stopped letting me drink him dry, and those two being twins their blood must be the same.

Then there was that idiot Soos, tried to kill me with some kinda dry meat. Almost choked to death on. That red head wasn’t irrelevant to me, she seemed harder to manipulate. Then thing one and thing two, Dipper and Mabel. Now if I could just get close to that sweaty boy that would be my ticket out of here.

That kid wanted the red head, and being the mean green mother I am. Who’s to say I couldn’t help a bit with that?

“Boop.” I turn my head to face thing two.

“Are you from Earth?” She puts another sticker on the pot that contains me.

“Course not, you think this planet could make something like me? I’m the best thing you’ll ever see sugar.” Mabel wasn’t the worst, nor best. Something that kept me busy.

“So how’d you get here?”

“An eclipse.” She then put stickers on herself and nods.

“Do you have family? Siblings? Kids? Uh, a grunkle?”

“All alone, but you could fix that. Maybe you just sneak me some more of that kinda red-hot treats, I crave.”

“Mabel, do not listen to that thing. It’s just trying to get big so it can eat us.” So thing one speaks, guess it’s a starter. Mabel turns to Dipper and puts a sticker on him.

“Grunkle Ford said I’m in charge of…” She pauses and turns back to me.

“Use whatever you feel like green bean.” She smiles and turns back to him.

“Of them, so that means Grunkle Ford trusts me.”

“He does not, he just told you that so you wouldn’t whine. He put me in charge of both of you.”

“Well I’m older so.” She blows raspberries at him.

“Real mature Mabel.” I go back to watching the window. More specifically Gomper the goat or whatever he’s called. I’ll eat him first when I get big enough. After a bit Mabel calls for me.

“Y/n?” I turn back around.

“How’d you meet Grunkle Ford?” The question gets Dipper’s attention and he starts to listen.

“At a store, called Mushnik's Flower Shop, long gone by now. Some idiot bought me, brought me there to take care of me. Kid failed so he was a gonna throw me out. Ford said he’d take it, bought me for $1.99.”

“Then what?” Dipper asks.

“Sucked at it, then he cut his hand and it was fate. Speakin of food, I’m hungry.”

“Oh, uh well Grunkle Ford said not to feed you at all.” Mabel says. My color pales, death like, my leaves welt and crumble. My head falls forward as if I died.

“OH MY GOD I KILLED IT!” Mabel screams and runs to Dipper and shakes his body back and forth.

“MABEL! MABEL!” He screams back trying to get her to stop. She screams and starts crying.

“MABEL! LOOK AT ME!” She stops and looks at him.

“The journal says that he’s able to change to look like they’re “dead”. It’s okay, it’s faking.” She breaths in and out slowly.

“It just wants you to feed it so they get big, and bigger till it can reproduce and take over the world.”

“And what do we now?” He shrugs.

“Nothing? It’s like a tantrum I guess?”

“Well do we ignore it? That’s what they say to do on tv.”

“We’ll do that then.”

The door to the mystery shack opens and Ford walks in with Stan. Ford looks over at me and rolls his eyes.

“Really? Faking your own death?” Ford picks up the pot and goes downstairs. I brighten up and try to nip his fingers. He sighs and sets me down on the desk.

“The only thing you’re eating is artificial blood made from-.”

“Feed me!” Ford grabs a baby bottle and looks over at me. If I had eyes I’d be rolling them right now.

“Please.” He then gives me the bottle and holds it.

(Tw) spitting food out, and throwing up, just says you did it. Not described.

Ford gave everyone a list of Rules when it came to y/n

No feeding Y/n, don’t give y/n blood, do not put body parts near Y/n, don’t eat or put food near Y/n and so forth. Did anyone listen? No. No they didn’t. Leading to multiple cases of plant spit everywhere.

First was Soos, with Beef Jerky.

“Hey little dude.” I look over at Soos.

“What’s that?” He lifts up the bag and reads it.

“Which is?”

“Meat, I’d give you some but Ford said not to.”

“Aw come on, I’m starvin. Just a bite? No harm. Ain’t gotta tell anyone.”

“I dunno dude-.” I grab the bag and dump the whole thing in my mouth. After a few seconds I start choking and spit it out all over the floor including Soos.

“Gross.”

Then was Dipper, which was surprising. He walks in the shack with some chips. It wasn’t much of a conversation since I just grabbed the bag and ate it.

“Oh my god- oh my god- Great Uncle Ford’s gonna kill me- oh my god- we’re all gonna die- oh no-.” I then spit it all over Dipper and the floor.

“Give me something good to eat!”

“MY MOUTH WAS OPEN-.” Dipper runs to the bathroom.

Then was Wendy, well almost. She caught me before I could get it. After those incidents Ford got stricter with the no food. Did that stop me? No. Why would it?

Mabel came down to the basement with Dipper to see Ford. Mabel had walked over to me. The other two not paying attention, and Dipper being well Dipper he accidentally tumbles into Mabel. Her snack of Smile Dip flys into the air, I open my mouth as they yell no.

As it lands in my mouth, I swallow it whole.

“Oh god I’m so sorry Mabel.”

“It’s okay, see nothing happened.”

“Huh, usually they spit it out right away. I guess I never tried to feed them such a sugary food.”

“I really am sorry.”- And that was the last time I ate human food and the last time people didn’t listen to Ford.

“MY MOUTH WAS OPEN AGAIN!!!!” They all run upstairs. That night Ford had to give me two bottles of blood due to how sickly I had actually looked and felt.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 5

Ao3 | 3.7k Words | Darlin's POV

Dr. McDreamy is on the case. X-rays, bone fragments, and late night confessions.

TW: Medical jargon, discussion of broken bones, trauma, and abuse, Alexis Solaire (just ya know... general warning for her)

It had been two weeks since you’d made your prodigal return to the 10-19, and in that time, you’d managed to avoid having any conversation that delved past surface platitudes and small talk with David. You weren’t sure if you’d consider your conversation in the office to be an argument, but that’s what it felt like. You thought about apologizing. But then, you didn’t really think you were wrong. 

David drove you to the firehouse every day. You hung around the house while he was on shift, napped across the bunkroom and lounge, ate the seemingly endless snacks that spawned in the kitchen every day. He drove you back to his place at night. You chatted with his spouse while he cooked dinner. You watched reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and The X-Files in the living room late into the morning hours, too restless to sleep. You could see the front door from your spot on the leather sectional. You guarded the two of them while they slept. 

You bothered Sam, mostly to avoid talking to the rest of the fire crew. Asher followed you around when he wasn’t on a call, his pathetic puppy dog eyes wide and terribly effective. Milo had attempted to talk to you a few times. He would call out to you, the familiar cadence of bickering and teasing coloring his tone as he shouted down fleeting hallways; “Tanker!” Even after so many years of living in Dahlia, his heavy, North Eastern accent hadn’t settled into the more neutral, South Western tones of those around you. You supposed that you couldn’t shake Washington out of your mouth, even after being here for over a decade. 

You were faster than him, always had been, and you escaped into the relative safety of the ambulance bay. Neither of them followed you there, in Sam’s domain, where they couldn’t trap you in the context of your past with them. 

Sam was a fresh start. Sam and Vincent and their nervous probie didn’t know you, didn’t know how reckless and stupid and stubborn you were. You didn’t have to sit with the heaviness of it all, with the betrayal you’d levied against them, the abandonment. 

David needed you. They all did. And you’d left. They hated you. They had to hate you. 

Eventually, Dr. Collins (and he was a doctor, his gossiping little probie ratted him out) convinced you to accompany him to an off-the record appointment at Dahlia General late at night. 

“Your name won’t end up on any paperwork.” He assured, huddled in the back of the ambulance as he ran paperwork between calls. He looked so fucking good in his uniform shirt. Navy and fitted, the short sleeves curled around his biceps as tight as skin. You wanted him to lock his arm around your throat and squeeze. 

There was something wrong with you. 

“I don’t have any money.” You said.

“That don’t matter.” Sam shook his head, that little crease deepening in his brow. Perpetual worry. Continuous stress. Your finger twitched to reach across the miniscule space between you, him crouched over his clipboard on the ride-along bench, you sat criss-cross on the gurney he’d just disinfected. You wanted to ease the tension from the lines on his face, spread your grubby fingers across his skin until it went slack. “Officially, we’re providing medical treatment to no one, so there’s no one to charge for it.” 

“Clever thing.” You grinned. Sam didn’t strike you as the sort of man who blushed, but if he did,  you imagined it would look something like this. His head ducked, his mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. You could spend a lot of time chasing that expression on his face. 

 David didn’t ask questions as you walked to Sam’s truck instead of his that night. They must have conspired about this. Petulant frustration bubbled in your gut. You swallowed around complaints, huddled into Sam and didn’t meet David’s eyes as he called out the same thing he did every time someone he cared about got into a vehicle he wasn’t driving:

“Be careful.” 

Sam’s truck was smaller than David’s and older too. You ran your fingers across the leather seats and dashboard, shifting to better accommodate your still-sore ribs. He huffed as he plopped himself down into the driver’s seat. His keys jingled with the tremor of his right hand. You’d been watching Sam’s hands for two weeks now, too weak to watch his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. You could map that shake like a stretch of familiar road, curving and rough and so known to you you didn’t have to think as you drove it. 

Dahlia General was a big hospital. It was Dahlia’s only Level One trauma center, so it was where the 10-19 dropped off most of its critically injured patients. You’d crossed the threshold of the ER countless times since you were a probie, often for yourself. You had the record for the most on-the-job injuries in the house’s history. Gabe had a plaque made and everything.  

Sam didn’t pull into the ER bay, but instead into a covered parking garage that led to an employee entrance. He leaned over you to pull out a red decal that he hung from the rear view mirror. His name was inscribed in white text across the surface; Dr. Samuel Collins. 

“Not a word.” He hissed as your mouth started to fit around a smart comment. You pressed your teeth into your tongue as he cut the engine. 

You passed a series of locker rooms with a handful of exhausted looking doctors in green scrubs and rumpled white coats. They seemed not to see you, but a few of them stopped their hurried paths to shout a greeting to Sam. Some of them called him by name. Some, the younger, nervous-looking ones, scurried past him without making eye contact. If they did address him, it was always with his title instead of his name. Sam’s face darkened each time, slipping into a waxy, distant mask. 

Sam dismissed the x-ray tech handily. He had no white coat, no badge with his name, no credentials, but everybody still treated him like a doctor. He stepped into the darkened room, took a deep breath, and turned to you. His face was blank and slack. 

“Right.” He nodded. “Hands and ribs.” 

Sam ran the x-ray like it was the most familiar thing in the world to him. He laid out your hands, palm down, marked them left and right, laid a heavy, protective apron over your chest before stepping behind a wall and running the machine. He had you stretch out on a cold, metal table and took images of your ribs. He led you from the x-ray room down a secluded hallway to a small exam room, the lights still off. 

“You’re a doctor.” You said into the pin-drop quiet between you. Sam sighed out through his nose. 

“That I am.” He replied. 

“If I were a doctor,” you cocked your head to the side, let the unnatural curl of your top lip pull your mouth into a vicious sort of smile, “I wouldn’t take the pay cut to be a paramedic captain.” 

“Yeah well…” Sam’s face darkened, the joke slipping past him and landing as an insult. You swallowed around the apology that beat at the back of your throat. “We aren't the same person.” 

There was a rap of knuckles against the door of your exam room. You jumped, a jolt of pain running up your ribcage and catching your breath. Sam’s bright eyes caught yours for a moment before he reached for the door handle. 

The prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life stepped through the darkened doorway, x-ray films in his thin, long hands. He was wearing the same sort of white coat that all of the interns and residents in the locker rooms were wearing, but his was stark and pressed and perfect. Underneath it he wore a set of maroon scrubs, separate, it seemed, from the rest of the hospital. His hair was so blonde it was nearly white, his skin pale and flawless, his gray eyes shining even in the darkness of your exam room. He smiled, his teeth straight and white and sharp. He extended one of those long hands to you, and his touch was cold as fuck when you met it. He looked nothing like Patrick Dempsey, but your mind supplied the moniker McDreamy anyway. 

“Hello, there,” he smirked, his voice tinged with a smarmy British accent. You flinched at the sound of it, your face curling in disgust. His eyes flicked across your features, but seemed to find no offense among them. “You must be-”

“Porter.” Sam warned from his spot in the corner. “Please, just tell ‘em what’s going on. No flirting.” Dr. McDreamy turned on the heel of his fancy shoes, held a hand up in the scout’s solute. 

“No flirting.” McDreamy repeated. “Now, if you don’t mind, Samuel, I have a patient to attend to. Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor.” 

“Yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes and made for the door, “add it to my tab. Just come get me when y’all are done.” 

Some childish, stupid part of you wanted to ask him to stay. Part of you wanted to reach out, fold his hand in yours, and let this whole stupid appointment pass over you like water, knowing that Sam would take it all in for you. You tightened your shaking fists and swallowed down that need like bile. 

McDreamy set your x-rays in the light box and flicked it on. He studied them for a moment before casting his eyes over his shoulder to you. 

“You’re a friend of Sammy’s?” He asked. You snorted at the endearment. 

“I’m a firefighter.” You lied. Porter hummed and turned back to his images. 

“Your hands are fine,” Dr. McDreamy said after a moment, his canines glinting as he pointed out your intact knuckles, “just bruising. Your ribs…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, one long finger trailing over the x-ray of your shattered bones before stepping towards you and lifting your shirt to examine the swelling. “You’ll need surgery.” You pressed your lips together and recoiled from his touch. 

“Nah.” You shook your head. 

McDreamy blinked up at you. You’d finally caught him off guard, thrown him off his rhythm. 

“The bone fragments-” you liked the way his posh accent curled around the word. You shivered at that particular thought. 

“I don’t care.” You managed to cross your arms. “I’ve survived plenty of bone fragments.” Dr. McDreamy held your eye for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. 

“Sam will have wandered off by now. He can’t help himself.” He made for the door, collecting your images and handing them over as he did. You folded them until you could stuff them into your back pocket. McDreamy cringed at the sight. 

He led you through the near abandoned halls of Dahlia Gen. You’d always thought that this place would have stayed as bright and loud and alive at night as it did during the day. At least, that’s what the ER was like. The emergency room was like a living creature, teeming with movement and noise. Marie Greer was the charge nurse down there, and she ran most night shifts with an iron fist. Every time you’d ended up in her care, she’d reamed you out within an inch of your life only to bring you back again with her excellent medical skills. You wondered if she was down there tonight, running her ER like a conductor before an orchestra. You wondered what she would say if she saw you. If she would be the one who could convince you to lay down, get treated, get surgery, get better. 

You wouldn’t risk it. You’d slip out the back and hope she didn’t catch sight of you. 

“You know,” McDreamy said as he led you past a door with big bold letters stating NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT, “pretty face like yours… I could work out that scar tissue faster than you can say ‘please.’” You stared up at him, that smug smile on his face. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

Porter laughed. After a moment, you joined him, ribs be damned. 

You came upon a door that was marked GALLERY. Porter swiped his keycard and opened it, poking his head in before leaning back and motioning you in. 

Sam was sat in what looked to be a stiff, uncomfortable chair, alone in a gallery space facing a glass panel. His back was bent, elbows on his knees, his posture that of intense focus. You chanced a glance down and caught sight of a vast, brightly lit operating room. A sea of doctors and nurses were moving around a patient on a table like ants. Movements were synched and smooth, flowing between each other as naturally as breathing. Standing over the patient’s left side, at the epicenter of all of the movement, was a woman draped in surgical gowns and gloves. You could see fire red curls escaping the bun and scrub cap at the base of her neck. Her face was pinched in concentration, her hands, painted red, were tying knot after every knot into the flesh of the patient’s still-beating heart. Sam’s shaking hands tried in vain to copy her movements.

“Christ,” you breathed. Sam jolted and looked up at you. His face was strange and open in a way you hadn’t seen before. Something like grief was clear across his features. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair, “that’s um…” he swallowed, “that’s Alexis Solaire. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. She’s the best of the best.” 

“She’s not human.” Porter chimed from the doorway. “But then, are any of us?”

Sam stood, shook out his shaking hand, and turned away from the OR. As he did, Alexis Solaire looked up from her work very suddenly. It was like she had known Sam was watching, and she knew now that he had turned away. Her work faltered for only a moment before those careful knots were continued. 

He was quiet as he walked you out, hands firmly in his pockets. He waved McDreamy off impatiently, too quiet and withdrawn now to bother with his flirting and teasing. Porter slipped away into the guts of the hospital as you and Sam slipped out of them, into the dingy, dark parking garage. 

Sam sat in the driver’s seat, both hands shaking, his face drawn and pale. He had history in that hospital. He had people there. And it was too much for him. 

“Gimme your keys,” you said. Sam’s eyes snapped to you. 

“What?” He asked softly. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.” You smiled. “Let me drive.” He hesitated for a moment, only a moment, before relenting. 

Halfway through the drive, your fancy new phone propped on your knee shining directions up at you through the dark, Sam’s voice rose through the silence in the passenger seat. 

“Your ex,” he said, “the one you’re afraid of-” 

“I’m not afraid of him.” You snapped. Sam was only quiet for a breath before continuing. 

“Did he do this to you?” 

It was the question that had been hanging over you for two weeks, since you’d given Sam just a glimpse of Quinn in that ambulance. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had told David. That’s why you couldn’t bear to talk to him about anything serious, why you couldn’t let Milo and Asher chase you down and pull the answer out of you. It felt as though everybody was staring you down all of the time, that question sitting in the back of their throats, beating at their teeth to jump out at you. 

You gnashed your teeth against the instinct to snap at him, to tell him to fuck off, to remind him exactly how little he was entitled to when it came to your history.

But then again, he’d snuck you into a hospital, his hospital, got you looked at for nothing, got one of his fancy doctor friends to see you. You owed him. 

“No.” You gritted out. You flexed your hands on the wheel. You were speeding, just a bit, and purposefully slowed down. “He… it was some friends of his. One hook up and a guy she was seeing. I was… asking her some questions. She didn’t like that.” 

“What, you faced down two grown folks on your own?” Sam huffed. “No wonder you got your ass kicked.” 

“Hey, I walked away from that fight.” You grunted. “They did not.” Sam laughed, and then seemed to realize you were serious. 

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, “you’re gonna give me an ulcer. You won?” 

“I did.” You grinned. 

“You’re good.” 

“I’m good.” 

Sam turned on the radio, flipping to a pre-saved channel that played shitty, rock-adjacent music that old men liked. He sang along to a few songs, off-key and rasping, his voice so unsure even though he knew the words. 

Sam’s house was deep in the woods just outside of Dahlia, surrounded by tall trees and overgrown grasses. It wasn’t big, but you knew it was expensive just by the look of it. Intentionally aged wood siding on a brick foundation, windows with curtains drawn. A wrap around porch with matching rocking chairs and a string of industrial looking lights. A coffee mug still sat on the wooden planks of the porch next to the plain welcome mat, empty and dark-rimmed. Sam bent to snag it as he passed, unlocking the door with his good hand. 

It was dark inside, still and cold. Sam flicked on a lamp beside the door. A sprawling living room emerged from the dark. A large, worn leather sectional filled up most of the space. Somebody else had decorated it. You couldn’t imagine Sam carefully matching the accents in the rug to the curtains. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, stacked haphazardly with sterile-white medical texts. Knowing the costs of textbooks, that shelf alone must have cost more than the rest of the house combined. 

Your fancy new phone buzzed in your pocket. You snagged it out, hands still numb from the cold outside. David’s name lit up on the still-generic wallpaper. 

ETA??

You shot back a quick reply. 

My hand is fine. Ribs are broken, but fine. Crashing at Sam’s. Too late to drive. 

David wouldn’t argue with the ‘too tired to drive’ excuse. 

“Do you… um…” Sam was standing too close to you when you turned. You jumped, twinging your ribs as you did. You winced and stepped back, grasping at your side. “Shit,” Sam’s hands hovered over your shoulders, as though he wanted to steady you but he was afraid to touch, “I’m sorry, Darlin’. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you replied instinctively, “I’m fine. Jumpy. Always… I’m always just a little jumpy.” 

Sam’s dark eyes flicked over your face. His full lips quirked up at the corners in that ghost of a smile you wanted to chase. 

“Do you want my bed?” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, “unless you’re joining. I won’t kick you out on the street.” 

“Nonsense.” Sam grinned outright, straight, sharp teeth. You wanted to run your tongue along them to see if they could cut. “It’s no trouble. And you’re injured. I’m not letting you bum it on the couch.” 

“Rich boy don’t have a guest room?” The anxious shake in your chest eased a bit as the banter broke out between you. Sam shook his head and stepped forward into your space again, his hands hovered over your shirt, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. Fuck, you were a sucker for brown eyes. 

“Can I?’ He asked. You nodded once. He lifted your shirt gingerly, his hands carefully avoiding actually touching your skin. He first assessed your stab wound, poking and prodding at the gauze before sliding one cold hand up, pressing painfully into your ribs. You gasped, grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself, and threaded your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I know, Darlin’, I know. Just lemme…” He ran his fingers along the line of your ribcage one more time before receding. His hand fell to your hip and held on, keeping you upright as you caught your breath. 

“How much longer are you gonna be doing that, exactly?” You gasped. 

“Well, seeing as you’re not getting surgery,” his tone betrayed his disapproval, “a while longer. I wanna make sure your chest wall maintains its integrity. One bone fragment in the wrong place can lead to a collapsed lung. I’m not lookin’ to pull you back from that particular precipice.” 

“Everybody’s so worried about my bone fragments.” You grinned. 

Sam produced an oversized t-shirt bearing the name of a medical college that you didn’t recognize and a pair of fleece pajama pants. He tried again, gentleman that he was, to put himself on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it. The two of you ended up on opposite sides of Sam’s insanely large bed. His blankets were plush and worn, well loved. Sam’s things were nice, nicer than you had expected from his appearance, but it was clear he used things about as far as he could. It was a habit you saw in yourself sometimes. You didn’t think you’d find it in some richy rich doctor with a giant house. 

Sam fell asleep quickly, his quiet puffs of breath evening out. You were so tired. You laid awake, watching out of the second story window as the trees moved in silent conversation. 

“His name is Quinn,” you whispered into the quiet of the room, “and I was in love with him. Was. Maybe I still am. He um… he was rough. But I like that. I thought I did.” You turned your head against Sam’s plush pillow. “He hurt me. Did… um… all of this shit to me.” Your fingers trailed over your face. “I gave as good as I got but… I am… I am scared of him. Really scared.” 

Silence filled the room in the wake of your rasping voice, nothing but the pounding of your heart and Sam’s quiet breaths to reply to you.

[leviismybby]

soft morning sex with husband levi?

Anon? Absolutely YES.

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Nsfw 18+, mdni, morning sex, Levi praising you, ugh husband!Levi makes me weak jdkdksljsk

Soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains of your bedroom, Levi placed gentle kisses on the nape of your neck as his hand caressed your thigh. Fingers tracing circles over your smooth skin as your eyes slowly open.

You smile when you feel your husband's lips on your flesh, he always knew the right way to wake you up. "Morning." Mumbling against the pillow, you turned around in his arms to face him. "Morning beautiful." He says before kissing you on the lips.

With a moan you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body closer to yours. You can feel everything under the sheets because both of you are still naked after last night's activities.

He is hard already as his hips grind against your thigh, despite the amazing sex you had yesterday and your body is a little sore, you still want Levi just as much in the morning.

Levi loops his hands around your waist, his lips move to your jaw and he places kisses on the marks that he left behind yesterday. He lingers on your neck for a bit before coming back up to your lips.

It makes you smile against his mouth to see how eager he is for you. You run your hands up and down his strong arms feeling every muscle in the way.

Levi moves his hands further down to your hips, he squeezes them and pulls your lower body closer to his. His hard cock brushing directly against your pussy.

Biting on his lower lip, you pull away. "Want you to fuck me." You almost moan when you say those words, eyes filled with lust as they look at his gray ones.

"Wasn't planning on doing anything else sweetheart." He grinds his hips against you a few more times before parting your legs a little bit and slowly entering you.

You bury your face into his neck, lips sucking on his pale skin when he starts thrusting. "You feel so good." His hands run up your back and pulls your flush against his chest making you drag your head away from his neck.

Both of you let moans escape as his cock gently pounds into you. You tug on his hair each time you feel him hit that special spot and Levi digs his fingers into your skin anytime your warm walls clench around him.

"My pretty wife." Levi tells you as he watches your face display pleasure that he is giving you. You can feel the metal of his ring on your warm skin and it reminds you of the fact that he is yours.

"Levi." The way his name falls so desperately from your lips makes him thrust deeper into your wetness. He closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him. "Fuck keep fucking clenching-"

Grunting he holds you by your hair and pulls you in for a passionate kiss. You move your hands to his back, gently scraping your nails down his back. He still has scratches from last night, you can feel them under your fingertips.

Birds chirp outside of your window, the scene in your bedroom makes it feel like it's from one of the romance books you have read. Except this is real and this is better.

Your tongues play with one another, his cock hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Levi breaks the kiss to get a look at you, he loves watching your face when you cum for him.

"Are you gonna cum for me?" You nod your head pressing your forehead against his. That warm feeling starts to grow in your navel, shivers running down your spine when you feel him twitch inside of you.

"Cumming Levi." Whining, you take the back of his head hugging him close as white pleasure washes over your body, your eyes roll back and you rut your hips with his.

"Cum pretty. Let me feel you." Your body shakes, a moan of his name leaving your lips. Levi groans before biting into your shoulder, cumming deep inside of you. He moves his hips lazily a few more times to really feel you as he cums.

The two of you breathe heavily, the aster bliss hitting you both. Levi kisses you on the forehead, holding your cheek to wipe the tear off of your face. "God you're so fucking beautiful. Still can't believe you're my wife."

Chuckling, you place a peck on his chest. "You think that I can believe that I married humanity's strongest?"

---------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @myprettyboylevi @luvjiro @mrsackermannx @humanitys-strongest-bamf @levisbrat25 @notgoodforlife @lovolee3 @sixpennydame @sparkywrites25 @svftackerman @ackermendick @cometlevi @laraackerman @idkks4m

[peace-for-levi]

golden hour

{sometimes i get ideas for drabbles that aren't long enough to be chapters, or oneshots. this was going to be a side chapter/drabble of morgen, but i didn't like where it was headed so i rewrote it. pls accept my garbage, i wrote this in ~45 mins}

cw: i have projected!!!!!! my abandonment issues onto levi lmao. anxiety, trauma, very slight possessiveness (but not to the point it's unhealthy) references to smut from the night prior. so mdni! finale pt. 1/manga spoilers!!!

w/c: 1201

taglist: @levmada @poisonpeche @jayteacups @happybird16 @theferricfox @sckerman @whattheheckmidoriya @notgoodforlife @anlian-aishang @unadulteratedtreecrusade @nelapanela94 (i honestly forget who's in my taglist??)

Levi Ackerman doesn't know peace. He is a man most acquainted with strife and sacrifice.

The void left in his heart after the Rumbling is gaping and steep. It pulls him into the dark, with little hope of anything good ever happening. Maybe he doesn't deserve it; maybe he isn't meant to have nice things. That's what the cynical side of him says. But then again, cynicism was all he ever had. Negativity, doubt... As a soldier, he always had to err on the side of caution.

So the idea of you laying in his arms, flush to his bare chest, is something so foreign to him. Levi can hardly believe his eyes.

Sunlight filters through the windows, casting rays and lighting up the room. Shining on you, he finally takes you -- and all your wonder -- in and he breathes easy.

He pulls you closer. Where is the next threat? When, even?

This is too good to be true.

You stir in his embrace and he relaxes, allowing you to fidget and stretch as needed. Your dewy and damp hair from last night clings to your forehead. Dirt doesn't repulse him too much anymore, he thinks. Well, not if it's you. He flicks the stray hairs dangling in your eyes away, and blows the rest away gently. Now he sees you.

He gasps when you smile in your hazy state, snuggling closer.

"Mornin'," you sigh.

"Mm." He doesn't mean for it to come across as a grunt. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

The gravelly baritone of his morning voice sends shivers down your spine. "Ohhhhh yeah."

It would be hard not to sleep well after last night, but he will stay on alert. He had his night of fun. Now it's time to get back to business. But what business does he have left? The teashop? It's closed today. Maybe cleaning the kitchen. Oh wait, you did a spring clean of it last night.

He sighs, heavily. It's hard to go from always having a task to do, to nothing at all. He can't lose his edge, it's too soon. It's barely been a few years. If he loses his edge, what happens then? What if you slip through his fingers? What if you realize that your time could be spent elsewhere, fulfilling whatever dreams you may have?

Not that he'd stop you, it's just…

I just don't have anyone else, he thinks, selfishly.

He must stay alert and aware all the time. He gave into desire last night when he could have been doing something more productive. If you continued to see how good he was, you'd continue to need him, hopefully. He needed you to rely on him, to need him, so that way, you'd always come back to him and you'd be in his life.

"You're shaking."

He's snapped out of his toxic train of thoughts. "Hmm?"

"When you tense your muscles, though it's faint, you shake, and…" you lean in closer, ear to his chest, "well, I feel it a lot more since I'm right next to you."

He sweeps his hand to cradle your head, wanting to keep you there.

"Sorry, guess I'm just…"

You peek up at him. "Just what?"

"Tch… Just forget it."

You blink owlishly. Sheesh, you only wanted to open a line of communication with him. But even after all those years, even when (an unsteady) peace between Eldia and Marley was established, he keeps his walls up. He doesn't know that it's okay to start taking down those bricks, however slow or long it may take him to.

The birds are chirping a song outside, perched on the sill. You smile softly, listening. "Do you hear them?"

"Yeah."

You try to wiggle out of his arms. "Relax, and listen to them. They're trying to talk to us, maybe." You search for his eyes.

"Yeah, they say you need a shower."

Despite his joke, his pupils are trained on the door into the hall of your shared apartment. The poor man, is all you think; a tortured soul who's not used to reprieve and doesn't know how to accept the rest he deserves. Always on the lookout.

You shimmy out entirely of his grasp and sit up. Though faint, you don't miss the bit of resistance he put up. You purse your lips in thought. Coax him out of it. That's always been your go-to method of trying to get him to open up.

A small nudge in the right direction.

"Last night was fun."

He had started to hum with the birds up until then. He peers back and he turns fully to face you. "Good, I'm glad. I feel the same."

"So feel it," you insist. "I think you don't allow yourself to enjoy the nice things in life."

He scoffs, in denial. "I'd hardly consider this a pleasant "morning after" experience."

"Not when you keep yourself so guarded and cagey, no."

Whatever scoff or smirk he tried to force fell flat. He averts his gaze, sensing a lecture. But when you move to ruffle his slowly thinning hair, his milky and grey eyes find yours. You smile sadly at the grey hairs you spot.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, Levi. You don't need to worry about me, ever. So rest. It's just us, now."

He scoffs, again, and turns his back to you. You flop down and trace the pads of your fingers over his muscles. You trace every scar and blemish; every cut and piece of skin so torn, it can hardly repair itself back to "normal."

He's always been the most human of the lot, and the most scarred (in more ways than one.) He carries the scars with him. The anguished fallen, the courageous subordinates he never got to apologize to. He carries them with him. Like how he carries his former squad, Erwin and Hange.

"Put down your swords now, Levi, the war is over. Take off the armour, too, that shit gets heavy."

He swallows thickly. "What about you? What if you're ever in danger? With my body like this, I ca–"

"Leave the sword at your feet, then. Pick it up when you need to," you soothe. You lean down to kiss him. When his shoulders creak, you giggle. "See, you're getting old! We should resting now."

I just can't be alone. Not after everything that's happened, he thinks.

"'We'," he parrots. "What about when you get bored living with a cripple?"

What will I do when you leave me?

"Well, no one else can make Sunday morning pancakes like you!"

He smiles for the first time now, his lips curling with bliss. He has to internally fight the urge to tense. "Don't make it out that pancakes are an achievement… Then again, I have never seen someone so god-awful at flipping."

He rolls onto his back now. You lower a hand to his scarred, pallid cheek. You smooth a thumb under his milky eye. As gently as you can manage, you sink back into his arms.

"So as long as you'll have me, I won't be leaving any time soon."

You don't miss the thick swallow and the trembling lips.

"I'm staying right here, 'Vi."

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ rbs and comments always appreciated!! ♡

[queserasora]

OBEY ME LEVI X FEM READER / SFW WC: 2.2k CW: angst, maybe some depresso espresso implied, but nothing crazy, some fluff, some kissing, that's it!

In the Devildom it was always night.

For some, that would be a miserable existence. Never a speck of light, never the warmth of pure absolute brightness easing the ache in your bones. Instead, there’s an indescribable coldness that settles in the spaces between your joints. It grows a home there, builds turrets, and turns your pain and suffering into a kingdom. Your body becomes ammo for the very same war it wages against you. It conquers you, buries you under its tyrannical foot until you forget what it’s like to look up from the ground. 

Not that it made a difference to Leviathan.

It had always been like that. The cold. The pain. The ground.

Even in the Celestial Kingdom, he had a tendency to keep his eyes on his feet. He’d count his steps carefully, petrified of going down the wrong path. More than anything he wanted to fit in; a place to belong.

But the funny thing about wanting; about real want. The kind that grows like vines between your ribs, and constricts and binds until you’re left breathless, starving, delirious. That kind? 

Want almost always leads to disappointments. If you have enough of those piled up, they quickly turn into fear; and once fear has a hold of the deepest parts of you, you learn to hate the light.

So for Leviathan, who hated the light that reminded him of what he could not have and could not be–the darkness of the Devildom was hardly a punishment.

At least that’s what he would tell himself.

Then why was it that for you, Levi found himself always making exceptions? 

He never planned for you to be in his life. He hadn’t asked for your time, your presence, your friendship. He hadn’t asked for your patient considerations, your gentle kindness. He hadn’t asked for any of it. 

Levi tried to keep you out at first, like the rays of light disturbing his deep slumber. He’d pull the curtains across his heart, hang up a keep out sign, yell and shake his fist at the sky like an old man on a lawn. He did everything he thought he could to stop you from trespassing. 

You paid him no mind. You pushed past the curtains, took down his sign and tucked it under your arm. You joined the old man and yelled at the sky too, then sat on the lawn with him to point at passing clouds. You did everything you could, and he didn’t stop you.

It was admiration, he’d tell himself as his heart would race at the sight of you. It was just merely, purely, only admiration. It didn’t matter how badly his hands would sweat when you’d sit next to him, playing video games with the concentration of a top scholar. It didn’t matter how badly his stomach would flip when you smiled at him. 

It didn’t matter, and it shouldn’t matter, because he didn’t like you. Not like that.

He was Levi, and you were you. There was no changing that. He had no right to have romantic feelings for someone as amazing as you, as lovely, and perfect as you. 

He does his best to bury these feelings. He consumes pounds of his favorite snacks, until Beel expresses concern about his sudden appetite and takes it as a challenge; one that Leviathan quickly loses. There was no competing with Beel when it came to a food challenge.

He tries to hide his wistful sighs between the pages of his favorite manga, so much that Satan finds him annoying, and goes on a tirade that ends up ruining several volumes.

His day is only made worse, when Asmo and Mammon inadvertently break one of his figurines in a fist fight. When he almost threatens to summon Lotan, Lucifer yells at him and calls him overly sensitive. 

Leviathan has had enough. He feels the rage that slumbers always under the surface bubble up. He hears himself say words he’ll regret later that he can’t take back. He feels hot tears prickle behind his eyelids, so he shakes his head and storms off.

He didn’t have much, but Lucifer wasn’t the only one of the brother’s with pride. 

Leviathan locks himself away in his bedroom, curled up on his side under the blankets inside the bathtub. It is cool, and dulls the noise. It feels like being inside a water tank, away from prying eyes. Levi closes his eyes and wishes, not for the first time, that he could sink under dark waters and stay there for eternity; wrapped in its cold current, away from those who don’t understand him.

There’s a soft heaviness that falls over him. He sighs as his breathing becomes shallow, and sleep touches his eyelids gently with cold fingertips. He thinks about giving in, sleeping it off, and maybe feeling better in the morning but he hears a familiar voice calling out his name repeatedly. Levi’s dark brows pull together as the voice persists, and there’s knocking on the door.

“Ugh!” he groans as he throws his blankets off and sits upright in the tub. “Go AWAY!” he yells, his cheeks turning crimson with his efforts. His breathing is ragged, and he is doubly annoyed that he was now disturbed from possibly having a peaceful sleep.

You don’t go away. Instead you knock more furiously.

“Open up, Levi! Come here and talk to me!” you ask him; your voice was clipped with annoyance. Levi felt even more annoyed now. He jumps out of the tub, and stomps barefoot to the door.

“Well, I don’t wanna!” he yells through the closed door. “I have nothing to say to you or my brothers. So if that’s what you’re here for you can forget it!”

There’s silence after he speaks. Leviathan’s breathing starts to calm down, and he swallows, wondering if he successfully spooked you off. He leans in towards the door, trying to hear past it. He presses an ear against it, his indigo hair falling over his eyes.

“You know I’m not going anywhere without you, Levi,” you say softly. It’s like he can feel you, pressing yourself against the door. Leviathan presses his hands against it, imagining you doing the same behind it. “Come out, please. There’s something in the garden, I want to show you. Won’t you come with me?”

Leviathan huffs. 

“It’s late,” he mumbles, pushing away from the door. He glances around the entrance of his bedroom, eyes on the ground–always on his feet. You hear him shuffling behind the door and can’t help but smile. By the softness in his voice, you know you’ve piqued his interest at least. The door creaks open, and Leviathan is peeking from behind it, his golden eyes peer at you from behind a curtain of blue.

You smile as a soft laugh tries to reveal all your secrets. There’s a timid heat rising on the back of your neck. You ignore it, and push your curls away from your face.

“Come on, Levi,” you say, trying on your sweetest whine. You hold out a hand towards him. “I promise you’ll have fun.”

He grumbles as he takes it, mumbling and blushing.

“T-this is-isn’t making me happy or anything,” he says even as you intertwine your fingers with his. “You’re such a normie.”

You hum in agreement to appease him. There’s a smile that once again threatens to destroy all your carefully constructed lies. You bite at the inside of your cheek as you lead him away from his bedroom and towards the garden. 

It was difficult to tell time in the Devildom without a clock or a watch. There weren’t changes in the sky that could be memorized or get used to. All you knew was that it was after dinner time, and you were surely to get in trouble if Lucifer found out.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and surely, he could turn a blind eye this time. After all, you were trying to cheer up one of his little brothers.

“Sit with me,” you ask Levi as you take up space on a stone bench. Leviathan looks down at your joined hands, and feels himself combust. He stammers some kind of response, as the softness of your hand finally settles within him. Your palm is warm against his. Levi drops it and himself onto the bench, keeping a small amount of distance between the two of you.

You sigh, and try to stifle the laughter as best as you can. You bite down on your lip, and look away to help yourself in the end. It wouldn’t do to laugh at Levi right now. It would just sour his mood. The coolness of the stone bench is soothing under your hands.

“Look,” you tell him quietly, and point at the glowing orbs floating in the air all around with a nod of your chin. “Fireflies.”

Levi looks away from his trembling hands long enough to catch the sight of fireflies dancing in the air. Their surreal light glows faintly in the dark. There are so many of them they cast the side of your face in a soft green light. Levi finds himself transfixed. He watches you silently, taking in the roundness of your cheek, the curve of your top lip. He is mesmerized at the way your lashes flutter when you blink, at how the wind softly plays within your wild curls. 

Something tightens in his chest. The sight of you is too beautiful. He feels sick and yet he knows this could not be an illness. This pain had a name. This pain had cost his sister her life.

Levi knows he should cut it out at the root. He should rip out the vines tangled in his ribcage with his hands, even if the thorns tear his skin apart. He knows he should incinerate it all, set it ablaze, throw it out, and never let it resurface again, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

He’d hold on to you with bloodied hands, with his fingernails torn apart. That selfish part of him, that he loathed, was the only thing keeping him afloat most days.

“Oh, maaan,” he groans under his breath, barely audible. You blink, and avoid turning your head, terrified to interrupt his thoughts. Levi’s expression was one you saw in him from time to time. The way his sunlit eyes would soften, how it seemed like his whole body was lighter. You could feel a revelation there, as if he was dying to tell you a secret. 

“It’s hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you,” his voice is a whisper; a prayer barely spoken. You feel your world stop, and then spin quickly. The fireflies dip in between the two of you, their little dance of lights never stopping. Levi is staring at your mouth, the one that now is agape. You don’t know what to say, or what to do next even as your heart leaps into your throat. 

The words spoken finally register to Levi. He sees your brows drawn in confusion, your eyes riddled with questions, and panics. 

“Uh-uh I mean!” he starts, hands going out as if to stop you from going further–to keep you from asking him for further explanations, to repeat himself. Or perhaps, just to protect himself. “I mean, just pretend you didn’t hear that, okay?”

You shake your head softly. “I can’t do that, Levi,” you tell him gently. He’s still panicking when you reach out. Your hand gently pats his head, until he calms down. His hair is feathery and soft under your fingers. You smile sweetly as you play with it. “How can I pretend? I can’t forget it now.” You slip your hand behind his head and bring him close to you.

Levi barely has time to breathe when your lips collide with his. He freezes at the warmth of your mouth, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. There’s a fire that sets its course through his body, running rampant along his veins. His hands feel awkward, as if they should be anywhere but in the air touching nothing as they were now–so he settles, quite bravely, by holding your free hand with both.

You pull away to give him room to breathe, and smile back at him, mirth dancing in the dark depths of your brown eyes. Leviathan thinks he’ll never stop blushing in your presence now.

“Next time give me a warning!” he says while watching you, pressing the back of one hand against his mouth. His face partially hidden there makes him look even more precious. You fight the immense urge to kiss him again.

“And I think, next time you want to kiss me,” you say, carefully and slowly reaching out to touch his face. Levi is so skittish you’re afraid he’ll run from you if you move too fast. Your fingers dance over the shell of his ear, before you tuck his hair behind it. Levi shivers, feeling a  new strange heat pool at the pit of his belly. “You should just do it.”

“Okay,” he agrees, mostly because he can’t think straight with your fingers against his ear; mostly because now all he can think about is kissing you, and kissing you, and kissing you.

And so he does, just like he promised. 

You smile into his kiss. Levi wraps his arms around your waist and you hold on to him gently, letting him lead this dance for once, with the fireflies as witness.

[asteroshearts]

Costco

Dad!Levi x Mom!Reader

Domestic AU, Modern AU, pure fluff, unnamed young son

Oh, the skip in your step couldn't be contained as you sauntered down to your car, basked in the sun, and dancing in the rays.

You had gotten everything that you needed (and wanted) today at one of your favorite places in the world: Costco Warehouse.

The groceries for the week? Obtained. The random sherpa throw pillow? One and done. Levi's wine, your spontaneous cheeses, tins of tea. You and your son gorged on every sample available until your bellies were full enough for your husband to nearly roll you back to the car.

The wheels of the shopping cart gently rolled to a stop, careful of the precious package you had in there, as Levi wordlessly met eyes with you. Without another sound, you nodded and ducked in the car, swiftly making sure the baby seat was ready. The second you broke away from your two boys, your son perked up immediately from his sleepy state, swiveling his head back and forth and gurgling slightly in his grogginess. Sensing your son's impending panic from not being about to sight you from his seat in the shopping cart, Levi absentmindedly began to rub his knuckles up and down his baby's stomach to soothe him.

"Aw, come here, baby," you cooed, taking your sleepy baby from out of the cart while your husband loaded the trunk. Tiny hands wound against your neck immediately and you tugged your son closer. "That was some yummy food, huh? Are you feeling the food coma yet?" Pressing his face against your neck, you felt his single nod.

Silent, but a listener, just like his father.

"Yea?" You placed him down gently as you began to buckle him in. "I think the meatballs were my favorite." Click. Zip. Pull. "If they're on sale next week maybe we can ask your papa to make them with spaghetti." Tugging on his seat belt straps once more to make sure he was secure, you began to pull away to help Levi bring in your purchases, only to be stopped by a single tiny hand pulling on your sleeve.

"Huh?" Eyes matching his blinked widely.

"Mama..." he started out slowly. His wide eyes twinkled with stars. "The chickie is hot, can I eat?" He emphasized his words with a couple more tugs to your sleeve, pointing a single finger at his mouth as he went ahhh silently.

"Aw, yea, that's what you were most excited about!" You beamed and wiggled your fingers at him, smiling widely. Of course: the famous Costco rotisserie chicken.

You had such a patient and quiet child, such a mama's boy, Levi remarked with a playful roll of his eyes. Your son was never difficult to handle and would always follow you around like a little duckling. Normally, he'd just tag along with you as you went down the aisles of Costco, a single hand on your skirt as he hovered around your legs.

But today was different. Today he had taken a hold of your hand without a single word and he was the one leading you. He dragged you to the back of the store where the rotisserie was, much to Levi’s amusement as he pulled the cart along behind you. Your son was a man on a mission, eyes gleaming with determination. He tugged on your skirt twice and pointed one tiny pudgy finger at the row of chicken trays in front of you.

You son even knew the tricks: the ins and outs. When you cooed and reached out to grab a tray, your son stopped you, shaking his head before pointing at all of the other people waiting around you. Your son even knew to wait for the next round of fresh chicken to be placed out.

You and Levi sure had a field day giggling at that, watching your son's back as he looked in awe at the employee behind the counter, muttering about how well he was doing with his first real grocery run.

That little runt was growing up, Levi thought wistfully. His fingers twisted around yours. The beautiful son you two created was really becoming a big boy.

But now, despite how cute your son was, despite his cherubic cheeks, and his open lips, and the twinkle in his eyes, you knew one thing: there was no way in hell Levi was going to let a toddler eat in his new car.

After all, even back in your college days, when Levi's car was a decade old Renault that he picked up for less than 1K, your then-boyfriend would raise hell at the mere mention of eating inside his beat-up trash heap. Even when you two picked up a McDonald's at 3AM, one glare made you think twice about eating a single fry before you left the car.

Levi, your high maintenance husband, made you wince sadly at the thought of saying no to your son as he stared expectantly at you.

"Do you mean you want to eat it when you get back home?"

A shake of his head. "Now, Mama." Oh, this was going to be difficult, wasn't it?

"Aw, I'm sorry, baby, but I don't know if Papa would — "

"That's fine."

What?

You head snapped to the other side of the car, jaw dropping as Levi opened up the adjacent door. You stared in a stunned stupor. What??

"Just a small piece," Levi told your son. "Then you can have more when we get home, hm?"

You were speechless, even as your baby fluttered his legs under the confines of the baby seat and nodded happily as a large smile stretched his chubby cheeks.

The sound of the chicken container being opened broke you out of your reverie, filling the car with the smell of rotisserie and surrounding your son's view with the beautifully brown chicken skin. Even now you couldn't say a word as Levi wiped his hands down with a baby wipe, drying his hands before easily ripping out a strip of chicken and wrapping it in a napkin.

"Careful, okay? It's hot."

Nodding furiously, your son reached out excitedly and quickly took a bite as Levi fed him. Pudgy cheeks let out humorous puffs of air to "cool down" his chicken. Although his mouth was too full to let out gasps of awe and hums of deliciousness, one look at his swinging tubby legs underneath his onesie told you just how over the moon he was.

Snapping the container shut, Levi wiped his hands again before making his way to the driver seat, all as your dropped jaw and speechless expression followed every step he made.

"What?" your husband asked, glancing at your aghast expression from the corner of his eye. Putting the car in reverse, he began the ride back home.

"You're such a — You're such a — !"

A pushover.

A softie.

A great dad.

Playfully huffing, you pouted and puffed out your cheeks, turning in the passenger seat and crossing your arms.

"You know I remember when I was twenty-one, I said I was going to have a fry and before I could even put it in my mouth you pulled over so fast," you recalled, fake-glaring at your husband, watching his side profile as he focused on the road, observing the sleeves of his jacket fall down to expose the dainty bone and curve of his wrist. "You took me outside and said we're going to be eating on the curb if I was going to be impatient."

"And now look at you — you're letting a toddler have rotisserie chicken in the backseat. You love your son more than me, the mother of your child?" You finished by fluttering your eyelashes. Of course this was all jokes, you both knew Levi's heart was more than big enough for his son and the love of his life, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Scoffing, he only flashed his grey eyes at your briefly before turning at the curb. "Don't be ridiculous. We know any toddler with my genes would be leaps and bounds cleaner than you."

Gasping playfully at the smirk he pulled, eyes twinkling with mirth, you batted playfully at his thigh.

"So — " Bat. " Freaking — " Bat. "Rude — !" Bat.

"Brat, that hurts." Yeah, right.

Barely containing his soft chuckles, you attempted to dodge away from his right hand as it tried to grab yours, quickly waving his attempts away before Levi's hand shot forward. His fingers wrapped around yours, trapping your arm before he linked his fingers with your own. When you tried to pull away, he let you go, but only replaced the space on his palm with your thigh pressed against the white seats. You waited for the heat to crawl up your face as he gently rubbed your thigh and soothingly rubbed it up and down.

"Baby, can you believe this?" you cried dramatically, turning in your seat to try and face your son. "Your papa is so mean to me!"

Finishing with the final bite of his chicken, your son blinked owlishly at you, completely deaf to the conversation his parents were having.

Holding out the empty napkin in both hands, your son gave a dopey smile to the back of Levi's seat. "Papa, I'm done!"

Exhaling softly, the tiniest of smiles appeared at the corner of his lip as he turned into your driveway. "Good job," he whispered, just as subtly. You took the soiled napkin from your son's hands and wiped his fingers clean before tossing the paper in the bin.

"More?" Your son's lashes were going to be long like Levi's and now they fluttered as he blinked. Then, remembering his manners, he beamed so hard that the fat of his cheeks nearly eclipsed his eyes. "Please, Papa!"

"Sure," Levi declared softly. Unbuckling his seatbelt, your husband went around the car to grab his son from out of his baby seat. "Whatever you want."

[her-devils-advocate]

To the dark I said pour and forgot to say when

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: It's starting to become too much for you, training the recruits just to watch them die. You take pride in your position within the scouts, but pride can't suffocate the growing guilt. Luckily, Levi is there to help pull you together.

warning: mentions of overthinking, anxiety, and breakdowns

@humanitys-strongest-bamf, since you wanted to be tagged once it was finished! <3 Hope it's still okay to tag you in!

word count: 2,491

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55262311

It had been a while since he had seen you, not since earlier that morning on the training grounds. You had asked if he could take over training the recruits for you, the cold and crisp morning air had felt unusually tense when you approached him, almost as if he could sense the war raging behind your eyes.

You hate having to pass up duties like that, guilt tearing you apart as you think of the long list of responsibilities that he's had to put aside for you. Not to mention that you enjoy training the cadets. You enjoy watching them grow stronger each day and doing all you can to give them the best chance they can have within the Survey Corps.

Maybe that's why you passed the morning's session along to Captain Levi instead. 

His piercing eyes followed your every move as you tried to act natural. Your shaking hands tightly gripping your biceps as you crossed your arms, throwing him a sweet smile while you made the request. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the evergrowing paperwork awaiting him on his desk had shocked you, the common tease often thrown between you going unused, yet you didn’t dare question it in case it ruined your chance of shifting routines. 

You simply thanked him before quickly retreating after he slowly agreed to do so, missing the way his eyebrows crinkled with unease.

You take pride in your position as one of the squad leaders within the Scouts, a position you take very seriously and have worked hard to achieve. While you know better by now, you can’t help but get attached to the people under your command. How could you not with so many different and young personalities looking up to you for guidance? You care for them and want to see them thrive.

Yet each new attachment brings a fresh crack in your heart whenever a mission goes badly. No amount of training or lectures can prevent the inevitability of the world you live in; while you wish for the best when it comes to your cadets, sometimes the world wishes otherwise.

The world is cruel and the titans are merciless.

You have lost many soldiers under your command, some of whom you consider friends. You still see their faces when you try to close your eyes, guilt flooding through you whenever you realise you have forgotten a name. You can’t remember the last time you slept the whole night instead of being haunted by the suffocating past.

How can you train these fresh faces when you have so many to remember already? 

Are you even capable of training them after losing so many?

What gives you the right to survive after so many have fallen?

The thoughts are relentless as you rush into your room, you slam the door shut behind you before diving into the worn mattress on the bed. The familiar sting of tears is the only warning you get before the dam breaks and all the unwanted feelings you had bottled up begin to rush down your cheeks.

You push your face deeper into the pillow, wishing that the thin fabric would drown out the thoughts rattling around your skull. You feel miserable as your mind torments you relentlessly and a part of you feels bitter that it couldn’t wait until nightfall before starting its assault. Your mind couldn’t even give you the decency of letting you hide your shame in the shadows.

The golden rays of sunlight flowing in through the window taunt you, giving the room a peaceful haze and ignoring the despair within. You stare up at the soft light, the river of tears silently flowing down your cheeks and onto the pillow, as you simply watch the silver specs of dust float around you.

Your tears grow and your breathing quickens, how dare you appreciate such a sight when so many you care for are now unable to? 

You weakly hit the pillow, as if you could transfer the thoughts out of your mind and into its damp cotton prison instead. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but from the busy commotion echoing around the headquarters, you can guess that training has since finished. You’re not surprised when Levi eventually finds you, although you hate him seeing you like this. 

He slowly walks over to you, and the sight of your tear-soaked pillow causes his heart to clench. He had a feeling something was off when you had spoken to him and he regrets not stopping you and asking then and there.

"Hey, talk to me." 

Levi's voice is unusually soft as he takes in your red-rimmed eyes, slightly swollen from the hours spent crying. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern as he reaches his arm out, hovering just above your shoulder, almost as if he's conflicted on whether he should touch you or not in your current state. He quickly makes up his mind as he gives it a comforting squeeze. You timidly look up at him, finally meeting his gaze. Even through the blur of tears, you can see the worry on his face as his usual mask of composure slips.

"You'll think I'm pathetic." You say quietly. If it were anyone else, you would have ushered them out of the room by now, content to be left alone to drown in your self-doubts. If it were anyone else, it would have been an order, but it just had to be one of the few members ranking higher than you who had come to check up on you.

If you were in any other mood, you might have tried to jokingly order him away, teasing him with his rank in a way you know he pretends to hate. Instead, you simply sigh. You know he’s unlikely to drop the subject when it involves you, even more so when he’s concerned. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve given him multiple reasons to be.

"I won't."

The sincerity of his voice makes you freeze momentarily, part of you would be fine with him shrugging and walking away, silently agreeing and leaving you alone to deal with it. It would sting, giving you yet another thing to overthink once you get through the current bout of thoughts. Not that he would leave you in such a state, but at least that way you wouldn't have to bear the heart you dedicated with all the current cracks on display.

"You should."

"I won't. Don’t tell me how I should feel." His voice takes on a stern edge, the tone softened by the grip on your shoulder tightening before he kneels on the floor before you. His eyes are determined, unwilling to let you bottle it up, much like how he would. A habit of his that he would rather keep to himself than share, for your wellbeing.

You groan, digging the heels of your hands against your swollen eyes, trying to wipe away what remains of your tears. You take a few seconds to compose yourself and to try and quiet the whirlwind in your mind, just enough to vocalise your distress. You can feel Levi’s steel eyes following every little move you make, almost as if staring hard enough would unlock all the answers for him. “If only that would work,” you think dejectedly. 

“It was just too much.” The words come out as a small whisper against your wrist. You can almost hear his mind working to connect the pieces.

“It’s just one of those days, I guess. You know the ones where you wake up and everything just feels…wrong? Then I took one look at the recruits waiting for me to train them and remembered all the other recruits that I had failed.”

His gaze softens as he takes your hands, pulling them away from your face and forcing you to look at him. Gone is the aloof and somewhat intimidating captain that the Scouts have come to know. Before you is the man behind the title of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, the side of him that only a select few get to see.

“That’s not your fault, not now, not ever. You can’t control everything that happens when we leave the Walls and I know that you know that.” He releases one of your hands so that he can gently grip your chin, tilting your head down to look him in the eyes.

Pure determination and understanding swim within the sea of silver that stares up at you. You want to hide from his gaze, feeling undeserving of it, yet his soft hand keeps you firmly in place.

“I’m not going to bullshit you and say that all the kids we’re training won’t drop like flies in a mission one day, and frankly if you wanted to hear that, you would have gone to someone else.”

“Technically, you came to me.”

The slight twitch of his eyes almost makes the corner of your lips lift.

“What I’m trying to say before you interrupt me again, is that what we can do is our damn best to prepare them. I’ve seen how you train them and it’s impressive. You have a talent when it comes to getting the brats to pay attention. We know the risks, as do they, but at least you are giving them the best fighting chance they can get. Got it?”

You stall for a moment, mind peacefully going blank at his words. You know he struggles to show the emotions he had buried deep below the wings of freedom adorning the breast of his uniform, but seeing him try for your sake causes a new lump to form in your throat.

Your silence tests his short patience and he gently tugs your chin, almost as if trying to force you to nod and accept his words. You fight the urge to jump into his arms, squeezing him tight in response. Instead, you clear your throat to try and dislodge the emotions building up.

“Got it, and you’re right. I’m sorry for being so pathetic. I know we can’t save everyone and that it’s a naive dream in the first place, which is why I always do my best to train them as much as I can.” You give him a watery smile, blinking rapidly to prevent the new wave of tears from escaping.

“I think everything I was trying to bottle up slipped out over time and snuck up on me today. Thank you, Levi.”

You receive an eye-roll in response, yet you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax, the one hand still holding onto yours giving you a warm and reassuring squeeze.

“Good. I don’t think those kids would have lasted this long if it weren’t for the rigorous training you’ve put them through.” Levi’s voice is low as he considers his words.

“Don’t forget that and don’t let this,” he gives your forehead a light flick as if to emphasise his point, “make you its prisoner. Overthinking like this will never do you any good, trust me. If you want to talk, you know where my office is. It’s not like you don’t already waste my time chatting my ear off about four-eyes’ shitty experiments or anything.

This time, you can’t hold back as a few tears begin to slide down your flushed cheeks, betrayed by the warm relief spreading through you. You scramble to wipe them away, having cried enough for the evening and maybe even a lifetime now.

“That will be twenty extra laps around the training grounds, by the way.” 

You can hear the amusement in Levi’s voice, yet his face remains passive as he watches for your reaction. You throw him a glare as his eyes crinkle, clearly happy with the response he has gotten. Your self-doubts and tormenting thoughts are now a thing of the past with his subtle distractions, something you slowly realise was his plan all along. If annoying someone out of their misery was a sport, you figure Levi would have dozens of gold medals by now.

“Why? Is this for getting you to train my squad earlier?” Your voice is raised in pitch, the confusion evident as you cross your arms.

“No, that’s for calling yourself pathetic in my presence. Twice.”

“I’m learning to make sure you’re not in range when I do so.” You mumble, unaware that the man before you has caught your private words.

Now it’s Levi’s turn to fix you with a glare of his own, clearly not amused with the idea. You begin to fidget under the silence, wondering if you had taken it too far, too soon. Before your still anxious mind can replay the last minute, he flicks your forehead again, harder than before.

“That's thirty laps now. I’ll make it fifty if I hear a single complaint.”

You release a dramatic sigh, showing your displeasure with the command without digging a deeper hole for yourself so soon. You anxiously break eye contact, earning a small eyebrow raise in response as you fiddle with the frayed blanket beside you.

“I’ve changed my mind,” his gruff voice cuts through the silence that fell between you, catching your nervous attention once more.

“Sixty.”

“By the walls, Levi. Stop making it higher, I’m not going to complain!” You throw your hands into your lap in exhaustion, your previous breakdown having sapped any strength you had for the day.

“I just… I wanted to thank you again, for checking up on me and for making me feel better.”

He clicks his tongue in response, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair, before giving one of the strands a playful tug. You groan at the action, playfully swatting him away while rolling your eyes.

“If you want to thank me properly, then you can go and make us some tea for the evening. Bring it to my office once you’re done. Bring a book as well, I need to finish this paperwork tonight and I don’t care for whatever trouble Hange has recently caused.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You give him a lighthearted salute before rushing to the door, not even trying to hide the excitement at the idea of spending the evening curled up in his office, drifting off to the sound of his pen gliding across paper.

Once you reach the door, his low voice catches your attention once more, rooting you in place. “Oi, I mean it.”

“What? The stupid amount of laps you will throw on me if you hear me complaining?”

“Tch, not that. I meant it when I said you could come to me. Now don’t you have tea to be making?”

You hold back a retort, feeling too happy to bicker with him, even in a playful manner. Instead, you simply nod before silently moving towards the kitchen, your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

[uzuicore]

LEVI HAVING A DAUGHTER WHO'S OBSESSED WITH HANGE

genre: pure fluff cw: none a/n: i don't know, this is just a silly idea i had while preparing lunch for me 'cause i ate chocolate for breakfast today lol

Picture Levi with a daughter who adores Hange, which greatly troubles him. I can't shake off the thought that Hange's personality would captivate children.

Levi had to entrust his daughter to Hange's care during some mission with his squad because the little girl wouldn't tolerate anyone else.

Hange looks after the child in a manner that defies Levi's instructions, for example, giving her sweets before lunch or dinner.

The Ackerman girl sat on the bright green grass under a large tree shade, next to Hange, who read and wrote excitedly on a paper. The child's long black hair flew everywhere in the strong wind, but she kept her blue eyes closed and just smiled while relishing her sweet treat.

As she prepared to take another bite of her strawberry cake, a chill ran down her spine when a shadow blocked the sun's rays from surrounding her, and her food was snatched from her hands.

The child gave her father a cute smile, causing him to melt at the sight of her rosy cheeks, and whispered, "At least it had fruit on it?"

Levi held back a smile as he returned his daughter's dessert, ran a hand through his hair, and declared, "It seems safer to leave you with those brats.

BONUS

Levi felt envious as his daughter spent a greater amount of time with Hange, choosing to play with them rather than with her own father. Hange would shower the little girl with kisses every time they encountered each other in the corridors.

© UZUICORE ON TUMBLR AND WATTPAD. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, EDIT OR TRANSLATE.

[elmundodeflor]

There isn't a part of his body that is safe from harm. Every muscle, every crevice and cartilage burns like he has a soaring fever— pounds and stings worse than in any other battle he's fought.

Is it over yet...?

His cheeks are red, flooded with his own cries of pain. As the silver thread that makes up a stream from across the driest of valleys. It all hurts. It all stings. It all burns.

Damn.

He winces, cleans up his tear-tracks with the back of his hand. If he had to compare this much pain to something— anything— really, it'd sure be a black hole, he figures. A force deadlier than gravity that makes him wanna cave into his very own misery.

"They're dead stars, I've read.", Hanji'd told him once, as they'd pointed up to the skies. They were set out to camp for mission, and Erwin had put them both on watch duty. "They bend time and space, and start swallowing everything that's around them! Kinda crazy, huh?"

Their voice fades into an echo, and the vision of them two reaching for the stars is water that slips through his fingers. It's all gone. All set. All done. And now, he's left with nothing but a black hole sitting in his chest. A growing pull that threatens to swallow what little there is of him.

Is it over yet...?

He looks through the blur. The air smells of fire, like a hundred-year drought that brought the land to its end. He can taste it, on every inhale of his lungs: it'll take another hundred years for hope to bloom again. It'll take two thousand lives for dreams to part through all this death.

Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji... where are you...?

Are you guys watching...?

Is it over yet...?

His heart clenches, then expands and explodes into the glimmer of a billion different supernovas. There's not a single frame of him that's not empty now. Not a simple trace that hasn't been replaced by utter brokenness.

He falls to his knees, lets his body give in to the shake. Yes. For the first time since he's been taught how to combat, Levi Ackerman allows himself to fall. Rapid. Vivid. Painful.

His skin bleeds when it touches the floor; his throat so closed he can barely breathe. Perhaps, this, he tells himself—this endless spiral of ache— is exactly what happens when a soldier loves. It's the pieces of himself he's lent to the fallen, that now have been lost. The stubborn ways of the soul, to be so foolishly selfless now he's nothing but a living ghost.

He glances up at the skies, there where a ray of sun makes its way through the clouds. Will the black hole in him come and take him, too? Can it bend time and space, and make life the way it was?

He thinks about it for a second. Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji; everyone he'd ever longed for, had believed in this world. They had bled, and sworn, and resigned to war, so that the rest could see peace, even if just once. Would it be fair for him to wish he was gone, light as a feather, then? Did that mean he had to persist through existence, still? Even with this void eating him up inside?

He takes another look around. He has no answers, just yet. But, in the midst of destruction, he can make up the contours of something he's always known.

Something that brings warmth to the cool that always lays after stars are born.

Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji...

Are you guys watching...?

This is the result...

Of all of your devoted hearts...

And after that, he’s swallowed into the infinites of a black abyss, too.

READ THE COMPLETE FANFICTION HERE

"The Tale Of The Butterflies", a story where Hanji Zoe survives The Rumbling, is out now on AO3!

[fanmoose12]

The new au levihan art of Catyyps is so beautiful, how about a little oneshoot, we don’t have enough of these romcom levihan where A fall and B catch A or they fall on top of each other these kind of scenes😙

obv based on this adorable art by amazing @catyypss!!

Hange adores their work.

Despite all the hardships that come with it, despite frequent setbacks, failures and disappointments, despite exhaustion so profound it seems to sip deep into their bones and occasional hopelessness and helplessness that threaten to grow so overwhelming that quitting appears to be the only sensible option, despite all of that and so much more, Hange loves it.

They love crafting new ideas, coming up with new theories and explanations for the ways their world operates, testing all of that and extracting every little piece of precious new knowledge that it provides. Hange loves their test subjects, gifted to them by Levi, albeit sparingly and after hours of persuading. They love observing them, learning something new about titans, finding the way to incorporate this piece of information into plans and stragedies. Even writing reports that they hate so much becomes a much easier, nearly enjoyable task, when they have something valuable to present to Erwin.

Hange adores their work, with all the hardships and challenges that come with it, but what they absolutely despise - is doing their precious work, while the sun seems to be actively trying to scorch the earth.

The heat has been steadily accumulating for days now, growing more and more unbeareable with each passing one. And today seems to be the worst one of them all.

The sun is merciless, shining bright and uninterrupted, with not a single cloud obscuring its hot rays, the air is stale and what little wind is present, its only purpose appears to be blowing sand right into Hange's face.

The heat is steady and unrelenting, no amount of clothing they've shed helps with it. It forces sweat to drip down Hange's neck and temples, and despite being clad in just pants and t-shirt, they're apprehensive to even take a sniff of their armpits. Surely, the stench that's coming from them would give Levi a heart attack.

And that's not even the worst result of that abnormal weather. Their head feels like it's going to split in two, they feel nauseous, and although they've already drunk an entire flask of water, their lips and throat remain as dry as sand beneath her feet.

But still, Hange persists. People risked their lives to capture these test subjects, and unbearable as though it is, this unprecented heat is the perfect opportunity to gain just a bit more knowledge about their enemies.

So, ignoring all of Moblit's warnings and paying no heed to cries for help from their own body, Hange carries on.

They observe the titans closely, pock them with a stick from time to time to check how their reflexes fare in such conditions, write it all down meticulously, cursing when dripping sweat forms wet spots on the paper.

They observe and write, write and observe, and-

Suddenly, a hand appears in their line of sight. It, at first, obscures the two titans before them, then their notebook, then - it snatches the notebook out of their hands.

Hange splutters with indignation, turns their gaze to the owner of the offending hand, ready to throw all kinds of insults at them for interrupting their work, but as they move, the lightheadeness they've been steadily ignoring for the better part of an hour now returns, and with such vigor that Hange loses their balance. Darkness omits their vision and they feel their knees buckle, and then they're falling.

Until- until they are not.

Strong arms wrap around them - one grabs them by the hand, another holds them by the waist. Hange shakes their head, regrets that decision instantly, as another wave of dizziness overwhelms them, then takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, and, finally, finds the strength to open their eyes.

And sees Levi bent over them, holding them in his arms still.

"Idiot," he scolds, but does so softly, in a quiet, albeit disgruntled tone. "Who goes out in such heat?"

"I was working!" Hange exclaims, or- tries to, anyway. What they meant to be an exasperated cry comes out as a hoarse whisper instead. "I had to find out how titans fare in such weather!"

"Hm, and you nearly boiled your genius brain instead."

Hange huffs at him, Levi just doesn't understand, and tries to wrench out of the circle of his arms and stand up on their own. Only to feel their knees wobble once again. They curse under their breath, and this time - don't protest when Levi helps to steady them.

Maybe, he is right, they think reluctantly. Maybe, they really should have listened to Moblit and hid in the pleasant coolness of their lab, like the entirety of their squad did.

But they can't just admit it to Levi, can they? That would mean he won. Hange simply can't let that happen.

So, they will the dizziness away, and show Levi a grin as bright as the sun above them.

"Just so you know," they say. "The heat is not to blame here. Actually, it's you. I've simply..." Hange pauses for a dramatic effect, their grin widening just a fraction more, when Levi, knowing exactly what they're going to say next, whispers a quiet, but defeated 'don't', and then they exclaim, "Fallen for you!"

Levi rolls his eyes, mumbles a curse under his breath, then proceeds to call them stupid in five different ways, which only makes Hange laugh even harder. They wrap their arms around their neck, clinging to him, and Levi, irritated though he tries to appear, doesn't do a thing to push them away. He sighs and drags Hange back to barracks, heading straight to the bathroom.

Hange's laughter bounces off the wall as they make their way through the blessedly cool hallways, and right before Levi throws them into the bathtub, they think to themself - joking though they were, they meant for what they said.

But, of course, Levi doesn't have to know that just yet.

[ilylovelyz]

dawn in the adan.

pair : levi x genneu!reader

warning(s) : just angst, a lot of angst, death, resulted from me listening to dawn in the adan by ichiko aoba at 4am

people die everyday. with death being a constant presence in your life, you'd thought you would feel numb and desensitized to it by now. oh, you wished you were. such a blessing, yet a curse it is; to feel everything so deeply. you've been told so many times that you care too much, expect too much, for a world that has little to give back in return.

such a big world it is, yet it has little to offer here. you used to lose sleep over it. you used to be unable to understand the fact that no matter what you do, no matter how much "good deeds" you do, the world may not return it in favor. but you still cannot help but feel out of place; you still cannot help but feel like you're out of place, it doesn't feel right. it leaves you empty and unfulfilled.

how are you not supposed to care? it was a question that lured in the back of your mind whenever you saw the death of your dearest comrades in front of you. how are you supposed to not care when you feel even the death of a flower in the deepest part of your heart? what if you died, would they not care for your death either?

ah, that stung. the strong scent the bittersweet whispers of citrus and green floral filled your senses, but only for a second. only for a second, you cared. there was a metallic note amongst the dandelions. blood, the remains of dried and crisp blood of your slaughtered comrades. you are left on your knees in the midst of the aftermath of a bloodbath against the world's biggest enemy.

it's the murmur of dawn. no one is here. well, nobody is damn alive. a bloody fight it was. the distant retreating stars twinkle with pity, almost laughing at the scene before you. you can't take in the sights around you, drowning you. you can't take in this painful, unforgiving scene. you're still alive, somehow. the crisp, cold air fills your dry lungs. as another sunrise rises, the rays once again kiss your scarred skin. a comforting hug from the only warmth you've known.

tomorrow perhaps, maybe in a few years perhaps, there will be nothing to see here here. the charred remains of the people you laughed with will reduce to nothing but stardust returning home to that vast sky. you hear leaves softly crunch behind you, you do nothing to investigate. you're lifeless. maybe you've finally given up. you assume it's that one "special" titan that survived this battle, like you. your dull and overused knees have finally given out from beneath you; you've accepted your spot on the earth beneath you, head laying in a pile of red dyed dandelions.

you can't even react when you feel someone's firm hands meet your head, fingers intertwining with your damp distressed hair. you hope they are here to maybe snap your neck, put you out of your misery. you know they won't, though. even in the end, you know who's burly palms are cradling your head with bittersweet empathy. he'll cradle you his arms, just like all other times you were stricken with grief.

i hear the distinct ancient ocean's song, the small boats of the afterlife are saying something to me, but i can't hear it all.

"y/n," the man says sternly. his tone is stern, yet forgiving. he waits a few seconds for your response, hands tumbling for a better hold on your fragile head. he leans over your body, attempting for a better look of any signs of life. you're still here, eyes twinkling with an unfocused daze, pupils blown wide. like the dandelions, they are red and crushed with defeat. "y/n." he says, you hear the frantic sound of his voice, his other hand coming to shake at your shoulder.

you let out a small umph at the disturbance. you're so sore, you cannot even fathom to touched by the soft breeze. your face feels like it's already been ripped at the seams, eyes heavy and dry. cheeks scarred and dried of tears. my heart flutters then, high in the sky. you cannot move, even with both arms stretched out. are you finally dying?

he seems to have ran out of patience, and despite your sounds of discomfort, he abruptly forces your sensitive body to sit up straight. "you're not dying, y/n," he says to you, but in reality its more like he's trying to tell himself that. his hands paw at your impaled abdomen, trying to fill what is lost. even after this bloody fight, he still has the strength to lift you up into his arms, hanging onto the remains of life in you.

you no longer feel pain, you no longer wail. you don't even feel the once satisfying lull of sleep calling you. the branches and puddles of wet mud crinkle and mush underneath his weak footing. he stumbles a few times before he slip's completely, unable to compete with this unfamiliar terrain. he's still cradling you like all the other times, protecting you from this world. he cups the soft of your cheek with one of his blood soaked hands. you can't even tell if it's your blood.

his nostrils flared with distress, "y/n," he calls out. this place as always been open, but nobody comes. you're still in his arms, head lulled against his chest. his heavy heart singing to you. you remember the many times he swore his heart to you. you find the strength to look up at him, what was a easy task somehow almost a few long seconds to do.

you take in the sight of his sharp cheekbones, his eyes looking down at you. they look scared. what is he scared of? the battle is over. a long time you wait patiently, you wait patiently for the end of your suffering. his eyes are glued to you, not wanting to miss a single second of what could be the last of something so precious.

this is strange to him, to finally have something worth losing. he thought maybe you'd stick around unlike the rest of them. two broken souls, finding comfort and safety in each other's presence. the dull world fades around them, one willingly, one forcibly. his grip on you hides you from the world, having a sense urge to protect what is left.

his body jumps when you take in a sudden surge of air. even with the small intake of air, your chest muscles seem to give up on trying to take in anymore. god, it finally hits you. you're dying. "y/n, please don't die." he whispers, bringing himself to place a shaky kiss on your forehead. you've never heard him beg like that before.

ah, you let out what perhaps might be the last sound you make. your heart pumps weakly, you might not see levi again. is this the way you want to die? you try to move any of your limbs, you try as best you can to escape this unwanted spell. to levi, it just appears you're twitching in pain.

no, you're afraid to die. his hand comes to the small of your back, rubbing quick comforting circles to encourage you. the children across the ocean, awaken with flowers. you're also afraid to live. whose to say you'll live happily, even after this. "y/n, i love you." he chanted. he's just foolishly realized you can't come back from this.

its skin is torn. you'd hoped your last breath was a sigh of relief, intaking the sweet scent of the flowers levi had bought you for the many years you'd been together. what is this? you've ceased movement. you can't even process the droplets of salty tears from above. seawater pouring from it's body.

you last register the devastated sobs of someone. you don't even remember who it was anymore. a beautiful creature. you don't realize it, you're gone. crawling outside.