#Titan's War Aftermath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlerequiem · 9 months ago

Text

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 6.4k).

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know about his new gamble sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

Freedom—it is the ability to stare at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood were here, they'd surely spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Historia ordered to evacuate years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?” he asks.

A hand covers your yawn. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm... you could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you reach for the tea.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

You turn to face him, looking uncertainly at the tin in your hand. “Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?”

“Yeah."

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You turn away from you, focusing on the tea preparations. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

"Ouch. Harsh, much?”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

You've turned back in his direction, and his eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit. One day in, and Levi's already screwing up with his words.

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?” You place cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout, who's sound asleep on the chair next to him. “She seems glued to your side.”

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

You smirk. “Aye, aye, captain."

For the next minutes, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling peacefully. You take to staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows. Levi should clean that before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things... Maybe find a job.”

Levi gazes at you. “A job?”

“Mm, yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi's eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join? You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it'd be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears into the shadows of the forest.

At the market, Levi is like your brooding shadow. He’s in his wheelchair today, and you’re pushing him as you ask questions about various topics.

(“Look, Levi—all these teas! Have you tried any of them?”

“A few.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always so pretty?”

“Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"Fish feces you mean?"

"And other crap."

"You know, your potty mouth hasn't changed one bit."

"Why the hell would it have changed?")

(“'Vi, look! A car."

"Hm.

"I think I’d like to try learning to drive. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're now moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

“Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see ya here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts.

Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski, a carpenter with a heart of gold. Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled in Mare.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings ya here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, perchance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will ya be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, miss. It’s made with paprika, bell-peppers and some chilis, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping the rest of the food down.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes, thanking Mr Jakowski for his warm welcome, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing more things—a toy for Scout, flower beds for the garden—you both settle in a café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from Paradis. You watch people from everywhere bustle by while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Prosecco, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer.

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi has joined you on the bench, his wheelchair tucked behind.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. “What... what do you want me to say?”

Levi shrugs. “Just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires a bit awkwardly. “…on your travels.”

“My favorite… sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first time he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

At that, Levi does raise a brow. He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course. I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you explain. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes are on him again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

“Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

“... Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

Levi retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Oh... does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good... I’m glad.”

Levi's eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits... and waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

At once, a pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort, shaking your head. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

“Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

At that, Levi has to frown.

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies.

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a moment, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yeagerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—”

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s anger fizzling in his veins. “Is that why you’re here?”

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes Levi backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

“We all did.”

“The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“That's easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly. His own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways. He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares.

“Right.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground. “But if you want that, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

“Hey." Levi’s jaw clenches. "It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

Levi takes it as his cue to drive his point home, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

He sucks in a breath at those words; he realizes it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. Levi's a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi. I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth to open but instead of words—

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him, whimpering erratically.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not... it's not guns. Just fireworks some brats are playing with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you stop fighting.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down, and he does something he's only seen Hange do: comfort you.

“Adler, listen,” he says. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it. Pretend that it’s the only sound to exist.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

“I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.” Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. “Even if you feel lost right now.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not. You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccupping for air as you draw away from him. Your eyes gleam, staring at him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I... I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he looks over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three brats approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Don't do it again.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with my squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on Erwin's face. "He's started giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

He first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi,  You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it.  Your amazing new roomie,  - A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

298 notes · View notes

kingkaisen · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐘 — JEAN K.

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after attacking Liberio, you & your best friend, jean, talk about your feelings, along with the future you both want with one another.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: fem reader, canonverse, fluff, slight angst, drinking, friends to lovers, mentions of heartbreak & jealousy, reader had a past relationship with eren.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.5K

“Let me have a sip.”

Jean Kirstein grunted as he sat down beside you on the cold cobblestone ground, right outside of a random merchant shop, your backs leaning against its wall.

Casually, you handed Jean your half-drunk bottle of alcohol — foul-tasting beer, but it was better than nothing.

He took a swig of it. The bitter drink warmed his body in an unsettling way.

“What’s wrong?” You asked your best friend, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Came out here to see what was wrong with you. You seemed pissed off earlier.”

“Yeah, well . . .” You paused, taking the beer bottle back from Jean and taking a gulp of it. “Captain Levi can be an asshole sometimes.”

“He’s not an asshole, he just doesn’t want you to have so much blood on your hands.” Jean rested his arm on his knee, his other leg stretched out.

“I did what needed to be done, Jean. Armin’s kill count is higher than all of us combined, so Levi’s an asshole for only chewing me out about mine.”

Jean was silent for a moment. Only the gentle swirls of the blowing wind could be heard, as otherwise, it was a decently quiet night.

During the attack on Liberio, Jean witnessed a massive explosion, a huge ball of red and orange flames erupting from the west side of the district.

That was when you appeared — flung yourself up onto the rooftop using ODM gear, your face as blank as a fresh canvas, skin covered with soot from the aftermath of your horrific war crimes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jean shouted, grabbing ahold of your arm. “Are you trying to burn down the whole internment zone?”

You didn’t answer. You simply snatched your arm away from him.

Perhaps, it didn’t matter, as soon after, Armin created an explosion that made yours look like a little kid was simply playing with matches.

But Armin didn’t have to go back and forth with the captain right in the mess hall. Armin got to enjoy his dinner of plain potato soup with a side of stale bread peacefully.

And, to you, that simply wasn’t fair.

“Levi just cares about you, that’s all it is,” Jean said. But he didn’t want to talk about Levi. He wanted to talk about you.

“If you won’t talk to him, then will you at least talk to me?”

You raised your head off of Jean’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Come on,” a small frown graced Jean’s face. “You’re not the kind of person to kill when you don’t have to. You wouldn’t put innocent civilians in harm’s way. So, why did you create that explosion? Your job was to help Sasha and Connie-”

“I’m not going to talk to you about this, Jean.”

“It’s ‘cause of Eren, right?” Jean tried his hardest to sound confident as he spoke, but his words were laced with venom and heartbreak.

When you failed to respond, Jean chuckled sadly. He took the bottle of beer and finished it off with one final sip.

After all, Jean knew you. You were both best friends for years, growing up in the same neighborhood before joining the cadet corps together.

You were there for him when he was the chubby-cheeked kid who got picked on for being a momma’s boy, and for running too slow during a game of tag.

You were there for him years later, when he almost died during a titan attack due to his malfunctioning ODM gear.

And he was there for you too. He saved you when a titan unexpectedly appeared in the middle of a mission, risking his life to slice its nape and keep you from getting devoured.

He knew everything about you — the way you always ate your bread first, then your soup. He knew how much you missed your family, and how happy you were when he invited you over for dinner with him and his mom. He knew your favorite color. Dreams and goals. How much you loved sleeping in. How much you cherished the picture he drew of you for your birthday. He loved how you’d tilt your head a bit whenever someone asked you a question, and how you sucked at chopping wood.

He knew everything, including how much you cared for Eren Yeager.

For years, he sat back and watched that suicidal maniac win your heart, and then snap it in half.

Eren picked the destruction of humanity over you.

And, no one had ever asked him, but Jean would have picked you over all of it — saving humanity, or destroying it — it didn’t matter.

He would have picked you.

“Did you think you could earn him back by destroying half of Liberio by yourself? Was that your little plan?” Jean said bitterly.

“No — shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then what was it? Did you do it because of his influence over you or what?”

“Just let it go, alright?” Pulling your knees to your chest, you said, “Eren isn’t Eren anymore, so there’s no need for you to be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Jean lied. “I’m just wondering what‘s going on with you lately.”

“Same thing that’s been going on with everyone else.”

Jean sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this, and he decided to let it go. After all, he couldn’t change a damn thing.

He couldn’t fix what happened in Liberio, nor could he fix the damage Eren did to your heart when he left you behind.

For a while, you both sat in silence. The only chatter that occurred came from fellow soldiers and civilians walking down the street with their families and friends.

Lights attached to nearby buildings and homes brightened up the street enough for you to see the little smiles on their faces, and truth be told, you were jealous.

The scouts that walked by where you and Jean were sitting had just finished fighting the same battle as you. The civilians were probably hungry, or mourning their lost loved ones and destroyed cities.

But they smiled anyway, even if it was a brief little grin, a withering moment of temporary happiness.

“Jean?” You called out softly.

“Hm?”

“Do you ever wish that you joined the military police? Even for a second?”

Jean didn’t answer immediately.

He looked down at his lap.

“Yeah, sometimes.” He softly sighed. “Now and then, when we’re going through all the shit that we go through, I think about what life might have been like if I didn’t become a scout. But at the same time, I think I’d be just as miserable, just in a different way. I do wish you had joined, though. Being a scout would have been a whole lot easier if I wasn’t always saving your ass.”

His last few words were playful, a small bit of humor that truthfully, you needed right now, and you gave a brief, airy chuckle.

“But seriously,” Jean spoke up again. “I wish you had joined the military police. No place on this damn island will ever be safe, but . . . it would have been better than actively being a part of the regiment that goes into war or titan territory.”

“And let me guess. If I had joined the military police, I never would have gotten involved with Eren, right?”

“You don’t get it.” Jean grabbed the empty beer bottle, checking to see if it was completely empty, as he desperately needed another drink right now. “I want you to be happy, you know that, right? Even if it isn’t with me. If Eren made you happy, then . . . I would’ve been okay with . . . shit, nevermind.”

“No, finish what you were saying.”

As he spoke, Jean realized that he was on the verge of confessing his feelings for you.

It was odd; you were well aware that Jean cared about you more than a friend should, and he knew that you could see right through him.

But, even so, it was an unspoken truth that was never addressed, even when your little romantic fiasco with Eren came to an abrupt end.

Maybe he should tell you what you already knew.

Maybe doing so would make it too real.

Maybe it would lead to you and him having a future together — assuming you both would survive your impending doom.

Maybe it would lead to nothing but heartbreak and more empty beer bottles.

He didn’t know. Couldn’t say for certain.

When he turned his head to face you, and you were looking into his eyes with a glistening gaze of curiosity, he just had to tell you.

If it backfired, he’d blame the alcohol.

“You know I love you. Of course, I would have been happy if I was the one you chose, and I won’t pretend seeing you obsess over that suicidal maniac didn’t hurt like hell, but like I said . . . I care about you being happy more than anything. Happy and alive. That’s why I wish you were somewhere safe.”

Jean thought about the horrific memories of going into some sort of battle with you by his side.

Whether you were both riding horses in the middle of an expedition or helping each other attach your thunder spears in preparation to attack Liberio, nothing broke his heart more than wondering if that moment would be the last time he’d ever see you alive.

In the distance, someone was carrying a bag filled with garbage from operating their little restaurant, and they tossed it in their trash can.

A happy couple a few feet away emerged from a small building, giggling and holding hands.

A group of young and drunk men burst into a sudden fit of laughter over a joke their friend had cracked.

All of that noise filled the silence that, once again, existed between you and Jean.

He wasn’t surprised, though.

He assumed that you didn’t love him.

He was okay with that — he had come to accept that little fact when he held you all night long as you cried your eyes out over Eren leaving you behind.

That was when he assumed you’d never love him that much.

Even so, the quietness was pure and utter torture.

He needed you to say something, anything, even if it was just a simple rejection.

“I do love you, Jean.”

Your words surprised him. That much was obvious when his eyebrows suddenly raised. Then, the corners of his lips were drawn downward, his shocked expression fading into nothing more than a disappointed frown.

“No, you don’t.”

“What?” You furrowed your brows, sitting up a little as you turned to face him. “How can you tell me how I feel-”

“Because I know you. You don’t love me, and I’m fine with that. You’ve never cared about me the way you care about Eren, and I-”

“That’s not true.”

Your words were stern and brutally honest.

Jean’s frown only deepened.

“I cared about Eren, that’s true, but I love you. There’s a difference. All I think about all day long is how screwed up it is. And knowing that you love me too, and I’m constantly breaking your heart . . . it’s all too much. Not to mention how shitty I felt, worrying about love and romance when the world always feels like it’s ending. But don’t get it mixed up. I don’t love Eren. I love you.”

“You’re lying.” Jean sounded hurt as he spoke. “There’s no way you love me. I would’ve known. I know everything about you. Besides, even if you did, why would you pick Eren over me if you didn’t love him?”

“You were always too busy glaring at Eren to notice that my eyes were actually on you,” you paused. “And being with someone I didn’t love was just easier, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

“I think I know what you mean, though. Who the hell wants to love somebody in a world like this? What’s the point in being together if death is always right around the corner?” Jean grabbed your hand casually, as he had done several times before, and soothingly ran his thumb across your skin.

“Maybe things will be different someday,” you said. “Maybe the world won’t be so shitty, and you and me? We could settle down. Get married. Have kids. Watch them play around with their friends like you and I once did.”

Jean smiled softly.

It sounded so nice; it was his dream, after all.

All he wanted was to be your husband and the father to your children, one boy, and one girl, he often imagined.

He’d work hard to keep a nice roof over your head and hot meals on the table, and start and end each day with a hug and kiss from you, his lovely wife.

“Promise me, then,” Jean spoke softly. “If, somehow, we find peace one day, we’ll do it. We’ll get married and start a family. We’ll grow old together, and we won’t ever go hungry.”

“That sounds nice. No more fighting. No more hunger. And imagine if we live long enough to become grandparents too. Imagine if we were both happy, adorably chubby, and our hair completely gray.” Glancing down at Jean’s hand holding yours, you mumbled, “I promise.”

A tear rolled down Jean’s cheek.

He turned his head, his hand cupping the side of your face. Softly, he kissed your cheek.

“That’s it?” You grinned playfully — Jean’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, as he missed your smile more than anything. “We’re confessing our love and planning our future, and all I get is a kiss on the cheek?”

Nothing else needed to be said. If the future Mrs. Kirstein wanted to be kissed properly, Jean would be a fool to say no.

The soldier completely turned his body toward you, cupping your face with both hands this time, and he pressed his lips against yours.

It was a passionate kiss, too. God, his daydreams about kissing you were nothing compared to the real thing. Feeling your lips against his gave him something to fight for.

He kissed you deeply and yet, lovingly, until you both had to pull away to breathe.

But Jean didn’t stop there.

He kissed your left cheek, then your right, and showered your entire face with gentle kisses. His lips touched your jaw and neck as well, and finally, you were the one giggling and laughing, much like the happy civilians walking down the street earlier whom you envied.

“Stop it, we’re in public,” you gripped his shoulders, effortlessly and jokingly trying to push him away.

Giving one final kiss to the spot right below your ear, Jean pulled away with a playful grin.

“Sorry, it’s just nice to hear you laugh again, especially if I’m causing it,” Jean ran his thumb over your soft lips.

“Yeah, well, the fun’s over. We better head back inside.” You pushed yourself off of the ground, and Jean got up as well.

“Wait,” Jean grabbed your wrist as you started to walk away. “Just remember that we’ll both make it through this. We’re both gonna come out of this alive, and when we do, I’m gonna marry you.”

Looking back over your shoulder with a sad smile, you said, “Someday, right?”

Jean matched your grin with a heartbroken one of his own.

Someday.

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: thanks for reading! what do you think happens next? do they get married and have children after the rumbling, or does the reader die tragically? (:

590 notes · View notes

a-french-coconut · 2 months ago

Text

Connor Stoll

Early Childhood at Camp

He arrived at Camp at a young age, around 9 (two years before Percy). Speaking from my own experience, when you get on well with your siblings, you don’t tend to befriend other people. You’re happy with your brother and don’t want or need anyone else. So, Connor stays close to Travis and he doesn’t make a lot of friends: he befriends Annabeth because she’s smart and iconic, and Beckendorf, but otherwise… nobody, not really. He’s happy with his little friend group.

AND THAT IS IMPORTANT FOR LUKE. Many demigods joined Luke because they looked up to him. But Connor already had Travis. Why would he care about Luke? And once again, siblings don’t like sharing that siblings. Connor doesn’t want Luke’s attention if it means sharing it with everybody else.

Titan War

Connor is way more hot-headed than Travis. He’s more harsh, more brutal. He will break your kneecaps, Travis won’t (unless you messed with Connor.).

When Travis was around (so majority of his life), he kept Connor’s feral energy in check. Travis is more laid-back than Connor and Connor followed his big brother’s lead. So, they do pranks, like the Golden Mango (and that’s how Connor and Drew become friends by the way—Connor pranks Drew, Drew curses Connor with full makeup, and befriends him instantly when he harbors it proudly) and chocolate Easter bunnies on Demeter's roof. Plus, with all the wars, Connor is more focused on staying alive and saving Camp.

Titan War Aftermath

Connor lost almost all his friends (Beckendorf and the dead Ares kid that he was super friend with), and Annabeth has less time for him than before. Now, at fifteen, he has to find new friends (and it’s hard because all those kids accused him of being a traitor. He doesn’t want to be friends with them). He already had Drew but their bond deepens immensely when he doesn’t mind that she considers Silena a traitor (he gets it, after all. He doesn’t think Luke is a hero either. But the others don’t like that. Annabeth doesn’t like that, so he keeps quiet. He doesn’t want to be alone). That’s the thing: Connor has never been alone and he never wants to be. Cue becoming best friends with Drew and Malcolm (Malcolm who is in Annabeth’s shadow, Malcolm who ran a cabin just like he did and is a total icon).

He’s also mad attached to objects. He has a chest under his bed.

There’s red sweater way too big for him that belonged to the Ares kid. He puts it on sometimes, even if it reaches mid-thigh and he floats in it. A friendship bracelet from Beckendorf. Pictures that make his heart ache. Battered, old sneakers that are hanging on for dear life- they are the ones he wore during the Battle of Manhattan so they’re “lucky” shoes and he refuses to give them up. He learned to sew to repair them.

During the ten months gap between the Last Olympian and The Lost Hero, Connor grieves for the first two months, as does the rest of Camp, and when he’s finally in the mood to cause some chaos : Percy vanishes. Annabeth isn’t in the mood for pranks so Connor and Travis keep it in check.

Instead, they sneak out of Camp to go to bars, bowling alleys, the movies even. They live a short normal teenage live.

Trials of Apollo

Travis left for college.

For the first time in his life, Connor is without his brother and it keeps him awake at night- thinking of him miles away. Then the communication die out, and Connor starts going feral right there. Because he’s terrified. Monsters are coming back, evil powerful crazy romans emperors are plotting and he can’t contact Travis.

He almost left Camp, even before Lester showed up, but Cecil disappeared and Connor chose to stay. He felt like Travis would have done the same and it soothes his heart.

Doesn’t mean he isn’t anxious and snappy. The only way he finds to relax ? Putting on his ratty sneakers, sneaking out to abandoned warehouse with his trusted baseball bat that Travis gifted him for this tenth birthday and go break some things. It’s liberating, because demigods are used to violence. It’s like lashing out against monsters without the prospect of potential death. He does it until the communications are back, and Travis rushes to Camp after learning it had been under attack.

And when Travis comes back, stays for a few weeks? He’s damn proud of his baby brother that stepped up for the younger kids and started living his own life. Connor will always miss Travis when he’s not around—but he’s starting to understand that it doesn’t mean that he can’t live without him.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #connor stoll #travis stoll #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #camp half blood

51 notes · View notes

levisonlylover · 1 year ago

Text

Secret romance in the Survey Corps

Fem!reader x Levi// a bit ooc//fluff//spoilers// A/N: It might be a bit messy since this was a bit rushed, hope this is okay

Levi would bring you tea whenever you are working late in the office. it could be paired with your favorite pastry.

Levi would stand beside you, maybe when going on a flight of stairs, he would have his hand behind your back for support

During meetings, he is always seen seated beside you or in front of you.

when sitting, he puts his arm on your chair as Erwin or Hange discusses the plans

At night, Levi would visit your barrack and sometimes stay there to cuddle up beside you or even listen to you ramble

at night, Levi would take you to the rooftop and look at the stars as he watches you admire the stars

When cleaning, he would assist you, whether dusting or mopping. And when both of you are alone, he would kiss your cheek in a split second.

when it comes to missions, Levi tends to become protective over you. He makes sures you are not out of his sight. He does not want to lose anyone dear, especially you.

During rainy days on missions, Levi would look for you, the memories flood back at him when it happens.

After missions, when you aren't injured, he'd take you to his office and tells you he is glad that you are safe.

After missions, when you are injured, Levi tends to worry ten times more. looking at your injuries with his stoic facade, when deep down in his heart, he worries.

During season 3, Levi catches you staring at him, the gray shirt almost hugging his form.

Season 3!Levi would shield you from anyone and whispering sweet stuff, making sure you're the only person to hear it.

During the rumbling, Levi was severely injured, but not too injured to make sure you are okay

During the rumbling, Levi would do his best to protect you from the generations of Titans.

In the aftermath of the rumbling, When you find him, Levi tends to tear up and try his best to hug you, not caring if anyone sees. he is just grateful you are okay

Post-war!Levi will make you stay with him in Marley to grow your relationship with him

#levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi aot #aot #captain levi #aot levi #levi heichou #levi #levi fluff #rivaille heichou #levi x reader #snk levi #snk #rivaille ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x you

422 notes · View notes

gingersnap-17 · 1 year ago

Text

Life After War (Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader)

Authors Note: Hi everyone! I am so sorry it has been such a long time! I recently got married, and me and my husband have been working full time, so I have not really had any time to write! But, my goal is to write at least one to two stories per week! I know I usually write JJK stuff, but today I am going to write a short story around the Attack on Titan world!

Summary: After the battle of Heaven and Earth, Levi has been having a hard time adjusting to life. But, thanks to Y/N, post war life has been easier.

Word Count: 1276

In the aftermath of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, the world had changed drastically. The titans were gone, and the remnants of humanity began to rebuild their lives in a world free from the fear that had oppressed them for so long. However, for Levi Ackerman, the struggle was far from over. The battle had left him with severe injuries, both visible and hidden deep within his soul.

Levi’s body was a testament to the brutality of war. His once agile and powerful frame was now marred with scars and stiffened by the lingering pain of his wounds. His right hand, a vital tool for his blade work, was damaged beyond repair. The bandages that covered his injuries were a constant reminder of his limitations, a bitter pill for someone who had always relied on his physical prowess. The stoic captain found himself in an unfamiliar place: vulnerable and dependent.

Levi spent most of his days in a small, modest apartment in a city that was untouched by the rumbling, far from the small island he once called home. The apartment was a gift from Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon. A place where he could find solace and recover at his own pace. Despite the peaceful surroundings, Levi was restless. He felt caged by his injuries, haunted by the faces of those he had lost, and burdened by a future that seemed uncertain.

Luckily though, Levi still had you in his life. Out of all the friends and comrades he has had over the years, you were the one who managed to survive and stick by his side. The two of you had been in a romantic relationship only two months after the discovery of the Ocean and lands beyond Paridis.

Despite the tranquil setting, Levi's restlessness was palpable. Each day, the battle replayed in his mind, a relentless loop of bloodshed and loss. The faces of fallen comrades haunted him, their sacrifices etched deeply into his memory. He often found himself staring at the bandages on his hand, a grim reminder of his altered reality.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, you entered the apartment. You had been out getting some groceries, hoping to lift Levi’s spirits with some of his favorite foods and of course his favorite tea. The moment you walked in, you could sense his unease. His eyes, though still sharp, held a distant look, as if he were lost in a world of his own making.

"Levi," you called softly, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. "I brought some tea. Thought it might help you relax."

He turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. "You always know what I need."

You approached him, taking a seat beside him on the small sofa. "How are you feeling today?" you asked, gently placing your hand on his.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "It's...difficult," he admitted. "Being like this, unable to do the things I used to...it’s frustrating."

You only nod your head, standing up to prepare some tea for him. Over the years, you learned how to make tea to his liking. “I know how this has been hard on you, but you have my love and support, and the love and support of other people who care deeply for you.”

Levi watched as you prepared the tea, the familiar routine providing a small measure of comfort. He appreciated your unwavering support, though he struggled to express it in words. As you handed him the steaming cup, he took it gratefully, savoring the aroma.

"Thank you," he said again, this time with a bit more strength. "I don't say it enough, but I’m grateful for you every day."

You smiled warmly, giving him a kiss before sitting back down beside him. "And I'm grateful for you too. We'll find a way to move forward together. It has been hard and it has taken some time, but we are all figuring out this new life."

He only gave a quiet nod in response, which was something you had expected and grown quite used to over the years. The rest of the evening, the two of you sat together in the peace of your apartment, sharing positive memories of life before the war.

—————————————————————————

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Levi began to find solace in the small, simple pleasures of life. One day, while you were out for a walk together, Levi stopped in front of a quaint, abandoned shop. The building was worn and dusty, but it had a certain charm to it.

"This place," Levi said, looking at it with a contemplative expression. "It could be something...something good."

You held onto his arm to help support him as you followed his gaze, seeing the potential in the old shop. "What do you have in mind?" you asked, already having an idea of what he was thinking. This was something he would bring up quite often when you first started your relationship.

"A tea shop," he replied. "A place where people can come and find a moment of peace. I’ve always found comfort in tea...maybe others will too."

You smiled, making a mental note to yourself that you just knew what he was going to say. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Levi. We can make it happen."

With determination set on making this space something new, the two of you set to work on transforming the old shop. It was a labor of love, one that brought you both closer together. Levi, despite his injuries, poured his heart into the project. You handled the heavy lifting and intricate tasks, while Levi directed and contributed with his keen eye for detail.

The shop slowly came to life, the walls adorned with simple, elegant decorations and shelves lined with a variety of teas. Levi's favorite blends were prominently displayed, along with some new ones you had discovered together. The space was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the changed world outside.

“In all honesty, I think this place is going to be pretty popular.” You said, putting some books on a bookshelf to give the tea shop more character.

Levi was currently organizing the stock of teas, agreeing to what you had said. “I only hope it does. We spent a lot of our money on this place.”

You smile, heading over to Levi as you gently rubbed his shoulders. “Trust me, everyone will love it here. Besides, this is the first tea shop in town, so I’d expect people to be drawn into our place.” You knelt down next to where Levi was, helping him get a proper stock of each blend. “….What if once a month we can do story time and have the children in this town come with their parents? You could read to them!”

Levi looked at you, giving an unamused look. “I don’t know about that. Kids just pick their nose and make things all dirty.”

You fondly roll your eyes, knowing that your stubborn lover will eventually come around to the idea. “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————

On the day of the grand opening, a small crowd gathered outside the shop. Among them were Gabi, Falco, and Onyankopon, their faces beaming with pride and excitement. As Levi and you stood at the entrance, ready to welcome the first customers, he took your hand in his, a rare but cherished gesture of affection he made in public.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking into your eyes. "For believing in me, and for helping me find a new purpose."

You squeezed his hand, your heart full of love and admiration. "Always, Levi. This is just the beginning."

The doors opened, and people began to fill the shop, their faces lighting up as they took in the serene atmosphere. Levi moved among them with a quiet grace, offering recommendations and sharing stories behind the different teas. You watched him, seeing the man you loved finding joy in bringing comfort to others.

The tea shop quickly became a beloved fixture in the community. It was a place where people could escape the chaos of the world and find a moment of peace. Levi's reputation as a skilled and compassionate host grew, and so did the bonds he formed with the people who visited.

As the sun set on the shop’s first day, you and Levi sat together, sipping tea and reflecting on the journey that had brought you here. The future still held uncertainties, but you faced them together.

In the aftermath of the battle, the world had indeed changed drastically. But amid the ruins, you and Levi had built something beautiful—something that honored the past while embracing the future. And in that small tea shop, you found a haven where love, resilience, and the simple pleasure of a well-brewed cup of tea could heal even the deepest wounds.

172 notes · View notes

laruezzzz · 2 months ago

Text

~𝕯𝕰𝖁𝕺𝖀𝕽 𝕿𝕳𝕰 𝕾𝖀𝕹

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆ 𝔈𝔓ℑ𝔏𝔒𝔊𝔘𝔈

The sky had curdled.

It hung above the world like the immovable lid of a tomb, bloated and bruised and sagging under the weight of unshed thunder. Stormlight slithered through the clouds in sickly green-gold strokes, like the bile of a dying saint, bathing the field below in a light too holy to be pure, yet too stained to be sacred. The field was a cathedral of rot. A sanctuary of carrion. War had stormed through here like a gluttonous beast- that much was glaringly obvious.

You walked alone through the aftermath, your feet blistered and blackened by the coals that smoldered not too deep beneath the Earth’s skin. Each step was a prayer for your beloved’s life to be preserved, yet each breath was pure and unadulterated blasphemy.

And there- at the very heart of the ruin, where the grass had melted to ash and the trees stood tall like charred ribs torn from a titan’s corpse- lay your knight.

Your ruin.

Natalie.

Collapsed like a puppet with its strings sliced. Sprawled in an eerily beautiful spiral of blood and silk and soot, her armor shredded, torn open like the pages of a book that contained insanely dangerous secrets. The earth cradled her with the reverence of a lover and the hunger of a grave. Her braid had come undone- golden strands splayed around her skull akin to the Sun’s last hurrah before it sinks beneath the horizon. Her hands, those unshakeable, bloodthirsty hands that had once torn men from horseback to protect you, were open now. Useless. Hollow. The left still clutched a familiar trinket- your locket. Her right hand was curled into a fist against her ribs, as if she’d tried, in her final seconds, to hold her own heart still.

You fell to your knees with a sound that was not a cry, but a shriek. An ancient, bone deep wail that filled your mouth with the familiar tang of metal.

The moment you touched her, the world began to weep, but not with rain. It began to weep with the slow, cruel, deliberate shatter of silence. The clouds above you cracked and split like porcelain teeth, and the light that spilled down was too gold,- too good, you thought, and it was almost as though the Gods had finally, finally looked down and understood what they had done.

You kissed her forehead. It was cold. So, so cold.

Your breath misted against her skin, and you imagined it was her sighing. Just for a moment. Just one cruel, perfect illusion. The blood beneath her head soaked through your garments to bloody your knees, warm still, smelling of iron and lavender and fire-forged weaponry.

You pressed your palm to her chest, desperate.

No thrum. No echo. No… anything.

Only silence.

A silence that seemed so loud that it bent the air around it, devouring sound, swallowing up your hope like a starving choirboy lapping up sacrament wine. It was a silence so sacred that it desecrated everything it touched.

And yet, in that moment, something shifted.

Barely. It was hardly noticeable, actually, but it was still there, like the hush before a kiss.

You knew what it was now.

The blood oath.

That damned, divine brand etched into her beautiful ivory skin, a promise too ancient to break, too hungry to die- it glowed.

Faintly. Weakly.

But there, all the same.

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to get your hopes up.

“Say something,” you whispered. Your lips brushed hers, not a kiss, but communion. "Say anything, please, Natalie. Say hello. Tell me you’re mine. Just say something."

She didn’t- of course she didn’t. What were you thinking?

The wind spoke, though.

It curled around you, freezing fingers grasping you from your lover's grave, full of warmth that did not belong to this plane. And riding on it, sharp as a needle, sweet as a sin-

Her voice.

Thin as a spiderweb, soft as a prayer:

"My lady."

You froze.

Terror and hope devoured each other in your stomach, clawing their way up your throat.

She had not moved. Not stirred. Her lashes did not flutter. Her chest did not rise. Her lips were parted, but they did not tremble as they should with the injuries she had sustained. No, her mouth was still. But the voice-

It was hers.

Yet it was not.

It was her voice if it had been drowned in holy water and pulled back from the brink of death. Her voice, if it had been dragged through every circle ofHell and emerged soot-tongued and blood-soaked and eternally ruined.

You scrambled back, hands slick with her gore, eyes wider than the full moon.

And in the pool of blood that framed her face like a martyr’s crown, something moved.

A ripple.

A reflection.

Hesitantly, you leaned in.

Her eyes were open.

Gold.

Watching.

And then-

Not a blink.

Not a breath.

No, something far worse, given the circumstances.

She smiled.

Barely, she smiled.

Just a flicker.

Just enough to make you wish she hadn’t.

And elsewhere, behind you, in the receding treeline, a second set of eyes opened.

Gold.

And feral.

And not hers.

You turned-

Everything went black.

#yellowjackets #reqs open #send reqs #natalie scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #natalie x reader #natalie x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #yellowjackets fanfic #ruezzzzfics #devour the sun #knight!natalie #knight au

44 notes · View notes

fanfic-lover-girl · 4 months ago

Text

Preview to my Luke & Hermes fic

Please know I love you, my son (so much that I am willing to ruin you) (734 words) by GirlObsessedWithFanficDaydreams_2022 Chapters: 1/11 Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Luke Castellan & Hermes Characters: Luke Castellan, Hermes (Percy Jackson), The Olympians (Percy Jackson) Additional Tags: Zeus Being an Asshole (Percy Jackson), Good Parent Hermes (Percy Jackson), Hermes is Trying Their Best (Percy Jackson), Post-The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson), Dead Luke Castellan, Bittersweet Ending, Non-Sexual Age Play, Infantilism, Forced Infantilism, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Diapers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: Luke is dead but the gods still want revenge. In the aftermath of the second Titan War, Zeus wants to sentence Luke to Tartarus. Hermes won't let that happen. He is determined to save his son…even if it means damning Luke himself.

I think this is the first age play style fic for Luke so I can't wait to finish this!

#luke castellan #pjo hermes #luke & hermes #pjo fanfic

62 notes · View notes

shiorihyuga · 10 months ago

Text

Masterlist

This is my BACKUP ACCOUNT follow me @shiorihyugawrites for the latest updates to my fics❤️

Join my Patreon:

Note: I'm three chapters ahead on all my fics on Patreon :)

Join my taglist:

Follow me on A03

Tides of Fate: In a world where powerful creatures known as sirens come to the shores of Paradis, the scouts are thrust into an unexpected alliance—one that is sealed through an ancient and seductive bonding ritual. Each siren has chosen a mate, and through their connection, the scouts are granted extraordinary powers. But with this newfound strength comes complexity, lust, and tension.

Steadfast Hearts: In the aftermath of war, Dr. Tiana Belrose, a brilliant Androsian engineer, arrives in Paradis with cutting-edge technology and her country's hopes on her shoulders. Assigned to be her guard, Captain Levi Ackerman, known for his discipline, finds himself drawn to her. As battles against Marley rage on, their unexpected romance blossoms amidst political intrigue and rising tensions. {Levi x OC}

A Soft Place: In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. {Levi x Plus Sized OC}

Diamond Of The First Water: In the aftermath of war, Paradis seeks alliances, leading to a political marriage between Captain Levi Ackerman and Princess Solina of Valoria. Initially a strategic move, their bond deepens as they face royal customs, public scrutiny, and the looming threat of Marley. Both unprepared for the complexities of a political union, Solina's naivety and Levi's guarded heart are tested. As love grows amidst war and duty, they must overcome challenges that threaten to tear them apart. Will their love survive, or will forces conspire to keep them from finding peace? {Levi x OC}

The Devil's Bride: Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, reunites with him in Marley, reigniting an unexpected bond. After breaking her vow of pacifism to save Eren, they secretly marry before the Raid on Liberio, drawing Aurora into his chaotic world. As the Scouts learn of her, tensions rise, with Mikasa heartbroken and Levi demanding answers. Eren is determined to protect Aurora, the only light in his dark world. As war rages, Aurora must reconcile her gentle heart with Eren’s transformation, while he confronts the reality of who he’s become. {Eren x OC}

The Ballad Of The Magenta Witch (Coming Soon): In the aftermath of the devastating attack on Liberio, the scouts are desperate for new allies to secure Paradis' survival. Enter Mea, an enigmatic sorceress known as the "Magenta Witch," who harbors a tragic past shrouded in betrayal and magic that defies time itself. With her loyal and bizarre companion, Goldfish Levi—a goldfish transformed by immortality—they arrive at Paradis, bringing a storm of intrigue, power, and mystery. As Mea's allure and ancient power stir the scouts' skepticism and curiosity, tensions rise when she sets her sights on the stoic and battle-hardened Eren Jaeger. Amidst the looming threat of war and shifting loyalties, Mea must confront the ghosts of her past while deciding if a new bond is worth risking everything for. (Eren x OC)

........

Aot One Shots:

Eren:

Karma

The Dumpster Behind The Club

Levi:

Letting Go

99 notes · View notes

stinkysam · 2 years ago

Text

Levi Ackerman - Joy.

Warning : nsfw-ish

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "levi x male reader in like- the aftermath or morning after they've had their first time together? like after all the war and stuff, i think it's canon that he's always the submissive one and I think that's adorable 😭" - @vainillacookie

Reader : male (you/yours)

It would be a lie to say Levi felt confident. He was missing his left leg, right eye and two fingers on his right hand and on top of it, he had never been this close to someone in all his life.

He thought he wouldn't be enough, that it would be too hard with his missing leg and that he would, overall, give you a bad experience.

But he's a grown man, who knows how life is and despite having never laid with another person before he knew sex wasn't as magical as one could think it is. He knew not to have high expectations, it wouldn't heal all his problems. It's just a different form of intimacy. He knew what to expect.

Yet tonight you washed it all away. His insecurities had vanished as he felt your skin against his own. Loving him entirely. Making this night feel magical.

Levi rested atop of you, catching his breath, sitting on you for a moment.

He could still feel you twitch inside him and it almost made him want to start again. He decided against it, preferring to let himself flop to your side.

You held him against you, breathing calmly with a smile on your face.

"You're so pretty." You say, caressing his hair.

"Shut up." It's quiet, almost shy, a faint blush on his cheeks. Despite all the praise you've spewed this night, he's still not used to it. You smiled again and kissed his cheek.

After a few minutes you felt him shift before pulling away, sitting up and looking around.

"What're you looking for ?"

"Something to clean up."

"I'll get it." You say, standing up. He watches your naked form walk around the bed to enter the bathroom. He can hear the faucet for a few seconds then you walk back in the bedroom with a wet cloth.

You approach him and wipe his abdomen carefully, removing the dried splatter of his own cum.

"I can do it."

"I'm the one holding the cloth." You say with a chuckle and you continue cleaning him up, then yourself as he watches the fabric go swiftly around your dick. You wink at him, clicking your tongue, noticing his stare and he scoffs, looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks.

You snort at his reaction, patting his head as he slaps your hand away, and you walk away to put the cloth down and go back to bed, jumping into it.

As you lay down, Levi goes back against you, resting his head by your shoulder, wrapping an arm around you. You sigh, content as you pull him closer and you close your eyes, falling asleep soon after.

He won't admit it out loud, especially since it would be useless as you're asleep, but he felt happy right now, by your side. Maybe life doesn't have to be hard all the time.

He allowed himself to smile, feeling comfortable against your warm touch, his thumb gently caressing your skin, delicately, as if he feared it would wake you up.

He snorted quietly at your snoring, your slumber seemed peaceful and he envied you a bit.

You're really enjoying this new life without titans, aren't you ? He felt lucky you made him tag along, your happiness felt contagious.

#male reader #m!reader #attack on titan x male reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #aot #shingeki no kyojin x male reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagine #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x male reader #levi ackerman imagine

409 notes · View notes

cherub-berry · 7 months ago

Text

*:..｡o○ CRAVING SMOKE | Porco Galliard x Reader

╰┈➤ Contents: fem! reader, both Porco and reader smokes cigarettes, reader wears glasses, reader is an eldian nurse, reader carrying an injured man, mention of injury, mention of war, the aftermath of war, guilt, survivor guilt, cigarette kisses, Porco opening up, mention of Marcel, teasing and banter, writer is not good with grammar

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.9k

╰┈➤ Note: this is inspired by my illustration of Porco. I also wanted to thank my friend Ari for co-writing this fic with me, with out their help I don't think I can finish this, so a big applause for Ari!

The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, clinging like a vice. The war had ended or so they said. But for the war veteran and survivor, it was a never-ending cycle. He stood atop his titan, smoke rising from its neck as the giant's body slumped to the ground. Porco Galliard, or as most people knew him, the Jaw Titan. The sky, once a clear blue, now darkened to shades of purple and orange, a beautiful scene if he didn’t notice the endless bodies beneath him. Eldians and Marleyans alike lay caught in the crossfire, everyone is a victim of war, even if they never participated.

Porco wishes he were a simple man with a simple dream, but what he wants is anything but simple. Yet here he is, bloodied and brooding, weighed down by the weight of a wish he never truly understood. He got what he wanted, one of the Nine Titans, but at what cost? Marcel’s death? Bertholdt’s fate? Or even the betrayal that still hangs between him and Reiner? The power, the legacy—it all feels hollow now, a cruel reminder of the sacrifices made. Each Titan form, each battle, has only deepened his pain, leaving him to wonder if the price was ever worth it.

He watches as the Warrior candidates celebrate, hugging and cheering for Gabi Braun, elated by the success of her sacrifice. He can't help but smile, ruffling her head as if to say, "Good job." But as he watches them, a bitter knot tightens in his chest. Their troop is dwindling at a rapid pace. Every single day, the enemy's weapons grow deadlier, more advanced, more terrifying. Porco himself almost tasted death recently, saved only by the Armored Titan, Reiner Braun. Meanwhile, the Warriors’ tent is filled with the sounds of laughter, men drinking tasteless alcohol and eating MREs to their heart's content. They laugh as if they don't care about what awaits them when they return home or if they'll ever return at all.

The night drags on, and eventually, the lights in the tents fade to black. Everyone is deep asleep, like corpses, except for Porco. War Chief Zeke Yeager is awake too. Zeke is focused on a book—a children's book, of all things. How peculiar, Porco thought. But this is Zeke, no one can ever guess what he's really thinking. A metallic mug of coffee is clutched in Zeke's left hand, while his right flips through the pages of the book.

"Stop staring so much, you're going to make me blush," Zeke muttered, his eyes still transfixed on the pages.

Porco raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the book. "Is it interesting? I mean, it’s a children’s book."

Zeke glanced up briefly, taking a sip of his coffee. "It has its charms. You never know until you read it."

Porco smirked. "Charms? For a kid’s story?" He sat up on his cot. "You’re not getting soft on me, are you?"

Zeke chuckled, eyes back on the book. “Soft? Perhaps. We need more simple things in a chaotic world that's going to fall apart”

The Jaw Titan studied him for a moment, watching as the man in front of him tracing the book cover. He shrugged “can’t say I found comfort in kids’ stories. But hey, if it helps you sleep at night…”

After a long pause, Zeke smiled at him. Closing the book and finishing his coffee. “The world needs hope more that it needs war, even if it's for a brief moment”

The night hung heavy around them as Porco fell silent, he can't lie Zeke is a very interesting person, but also a dangerous one.

"Gonna go smoke for a bit," Porco said, breaking the silence.

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Zeke muttered. "The war is over for us, but not for the nurses. It’s chaos out there.”

Porco ignored Zeke’s warning and headed out into the night. The cold air hit him immediately, as a gust of wind tousled his hair. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, exhaling smoke into the crisp night. The silence outside was different—empty, almost suffocating. He stood there for a while, letting the chill sink in, his thoughts drifting as the smoke swirled upward. Zeke’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

He lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of nicotine into the frigid air, the wind growing sharper and colder. He glances into the distance, where the medical tents stand far from the others. The muffled sounds of screaming and crying drift toward him. Unlike the warriors' tent—silent, warm, and inviting, the medical tents are bright, chaotic, and soaked in blood. Curiosity tugs at him, and he steps closer. The screams grow louder, and he sees nurses rushing about, covered in blood, their faces hidden behind masks and surgical gloves.

The head nurse stumbles by, her eyes wide with panic as she clutches the gruesome bandage “what are you doing here!? Stay back,” her voice strained. “We're losing him, quickly, morphine!”.

Porco watches in silence, in awe. Cigarette forgotten as the ashes drop down to the dirt floor. Another nurse passed him, not glancing at him. Her gaze never meeting his. Zeke was right, it's war here.

Your hands are shaking as you struggle to open the morphine bottle, the lid slipping from your trembling fingers. As you fumble, your glasses slide down your nose and nearly fall off, but you barely notice, too focused on the task at hand.

Getting a syringe you dipped the needle into the bottle giving it a light tap before injecting it into the dying man, preparing him for the pain that will follow.

Time seemed to slow down for Porco as he watched the nurses rushing to help the unconscious man. Every moment felt stretched, the hurried movements of the medical staff blending into a blur of urgency, while his own focus remained locked on the scene unfolding before him.

But one nurse stood out to Porco—the woman with glasses. She didn’t appear much older than he was, yet she was carrying a half-dead man alone, her movements steady and deliberate despite the heavy burden. The sight of her, focused and determined, carrying the unconscious man toward the operating tent, struck Porco deeply. To him the woman was not only carrying his life, but the hopes of a fallen soldier.

“It's going to be okay Mr. Charlie! You're going to go home soon,” You said, gently lowering him on the bed, reassuring him and also yourself.

Nurses swarmed around the man, preparing him for surgery, while your hand trembled, heavy with the responsibility of his life.Your chest tightens, the weight of the moment pressing down, and your breath catches in your throat. It's the sudden, overwhelming realization of how fragile life is, how much is at stake in this very moment.

“(Name), you did well today. You can take the rest of the night off,” One of the older nurses said, putting on her mask and surgical gloves.

You nod quietly, too exhausted to argue. In truth, you wanted to stay—to assist the nurses, to see the surgery through. But as you turn to leave the surgical tents, the weight of your fatigue pulls you away, each step heavy as you step out into the cool night air.

The breeze brushes against your skin, a soft, fleeting touch, like a kiss that might vanish at any moment. Adjusting your glasses you finally notice a young man staring outside one of the tents, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. You approach him and tap his shoulder once—did he not feel it? You tap again, then speak.

“Excuse me, sir, you're not allowed to smoke here.”

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. His voice sounds distant, almost detached, but there’s an unmistakable tension in his posture. Though his face remains calm, his eyes reveal a different story, one of turmoil and inner conflict that he’s trying hard to hide.

You look at him from head to toe. You know this man, the infamous Jaw Titan. His face carries the unmistakable feature that haunts Liberio. Nurses often fawn over the warriors, often calling the man in front of you “a handsome asshole with a good heart”. A certain charm behind those cold and rigid eyes that will make people swoon.

Porco’s eyes met yours. And for a moment, your breath catches. There's something undoubtedly intimate in his gaze—unacknowledged attraction. The connection feels so short yet so magnetic, it makes you want his gaze even more.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” He says, pointing to his face to clarify.

Your eyes widen slightly as you quickly wipe your cheek, only to see the dark stain of blood smeared across your skin. Maybe he wasn’t looking at your eyes after all—maybe it was your cheek he was focused on. A wave of self-consciousness hits you as you glance down at your uniform, now caked in dirt and blood. The grime and the mess suddenly seem more obvious, and you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, like all the weight of the day’s chaos has left its mark on you.

"Thanks..." The words barely escape your throat, soft and barely audible.

"Mr. Galliard, if you're looking to smoke, I know a place." You clear your throat, hoping the sudden awkwardness doesn’t linger.

He glances at you, then back at the ground. "Oh—uh, sure. Lead the way." His tone is a mix of surprise and something else, almost like he wasn’t expecting an offer, but couldn’t refuse it either.

You lead him into the cool evening, the air carrying a sharp bite that makes the night feel even more isolated. As you walk side by side, the silence between you both is oddly comfortable. The faint crunch of gravel beneath your boots is the only sound, and you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you—his movements casual, but you can tell he’s paying attention to the surroundings.

You guide him to the back of an old, abandoned shed, though calling it a shed feels generous. It’s little more than a crumbling wooden wall with a rusted door, barely standing against the wind. The dim light from the nearby lanterns casts long shadows, adding a sense of quiet intimacy to the moment. It’s a place hidden from prying eyes, and as you both step into the shelter, the world outside feels just a little more distant, a little more forgotten.

“Here we are, enjoy your time Mr. Galliard. Goodnight,” You pivot on your heel and head back toward the nurses' tent, hoping to find some rest or at least a brief moment of peace away from the chaos.

A calloused hand reaches out, brushing against yours. You turn back, and for a split second, you catch the blonde man’s eyes. They flicker from yours to the ground, his brows furrowing in a quiet struggle, as if debating something he can’t quite put into words. He lowers his hand slowly, almost surprised by his own gesture.

“I—uh, forget it. Goodnight,” he mutters, the words awkward and heavy, like he’s wrestling with a thought he isn’t ready to share.

His eyes linger just a little longer than necessary, betraying the quiet curiosity that seems to hang in the air between you—an unspoken desire to know more, but uncertainty keeping him at arm’s length.

You know he wanted to know. The makeshift question barrelling in your head: how did you know this place? The question feels simple yet complicated.

You smile softly at him, feeling the weight of the moment shift. Sliding down the wall, you settle onto the ground, your posture casual but inviting. You pat the spot next to you, looking up at him with a quiet, unspoken request.

"Sit with me?"

For a moment, he hesitates, eyes flicking between the empty space beside you and your face, as if debating whether to break the distance or remain standing. After a beat, he lowers himself slowly, sitting beside you without a word. Shoulders almost brushing, his body heat radiating.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your uniform, pulling out a cigarette box, the edges worn from constant use. You shake it lightly, feeling the last few sticks inside, then retrieve an almost empty lighter, the flame flickering weakly at your fingertips.

“I didn't know nurses can smoke,” He says, you can hear faint hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, we aren't supposed to,” you reply, taking a drag and letting the smoke curl up into the air, "But I still do anyway.”

He chuckles softly. "I guess some rules are meant to be bent."

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the cool evening air. "Maybe. But it's not exactly the healthiest habit, either way.”

“You should tell that to Zeke.” he says, a grin creeping in.

"The head nurse has," you reply with a dry laugh, "She told him to quit, but he just keeps on going. It’s like telling a cat to stop being a cat." You take a long drag, enjoying the bite of the smoke as you watch the haze swirl around you.

Porco watches you exhale another puff of smoke, his gaze following the way the smoke curls into the air. After a moment, he pulls out his own cigarette and a lighter from his jacket, biting the tip between his lips with a small grunt of concentration. He flicks the lighter, but the flame sputters out before it can catch, the tiny spark vanishing into the cool night. He shakes the lighter impatiently, then tries again, only for it to fail once more. With a frustrated sigh, he tosses the lighter aside with a muttered curse.

“Can I borrow yours?” He points toward your lighter with a half-embarrassed look.

You nod, handing it to him. He takes it and flicks the fuse multiple times, but again, the flame refuses to appear.

"Guess no cigarette for me tonight," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he hands it back to you. "Lucky you. You've got all the fire."

You chuckle softly, slipping the lighter back into your pocket. "Maybe it’s a sign you’re not meant to smoke tonight."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Could be.”

“Here, I'll share mine with you. Get close”

Porco raises an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. You bring the lit cigarette back up to your lips and position it so the glowing tip is almost exactly in line with his—just a hair's breath apart, the two cigarettes hovering close. He leans in slightly, and you both, without missing a beat, gently bring your lips together, the tips of your cigarettes now nearly touching.

For a brief, intense moment, you both exhale at the same time, the smoke mixing and swirling around you, the soft glow of the lit tips connecting in a silent, almost intimate dance. The flame transfers easily between the cigarettes, igniting his with a soft hiss. He takes a quick drag as you pull back, both of you now holding your cigarettes with your lips.

"Now that’s how you light a cigarette," you say with a grin, watching him as he exhales, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Porco chuckles, still holding the cigarette between his lips. "You’re full of surprises, huh?"

You shrug casually, the smoke trailing lazily in the air. "I like to keep things interesting."

For a moment, the world feels quieter, the shared action something unspoken, just a little closer than it probably should be. A little too intimate than it should be. You lower your hand to the ground, just a breath away from his, the space between your fingers humming with an unspoken promise. You linger there, so close that the air seems to tremble with the possibility of touch, but neither of you moves.

Porco raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he glances at your hand, hovering near his. "Careful," he says, voice low, a teasing edge to it. "You might be getting a little too close for comfort."

You hold his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of your lips. "Comfort’s overrated," you reply, fingers barely brushing the edge of his.

His eyes flicked between you and your hand. “You're the type to make things complicated, aren't you?

You stretch your body, your spine arching gracefully as you move, the motion fluid and effortless. His gaze follows you, intent and focused, drawn to the curve of your back with an almost predatory intensity. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you don't falter. As you shift, your hand drifts even closer to his, the space between you shrinking with every deliberate inch. You hold his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes.

"Only when it's worth it," you say, your voice soft but clear, as if the words are as much a challenge as an invitation.

Porco's gaze sharpens, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the gray smoke to the cold night sky. “Is this one of those moments?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift your hand a fraction closer, just enough to send a jolt of tension through the air. "Maybe," you say softly. "Maybe not."

His lips quirk upward, the challenge in his eyes clear. "You’re a tease. I kind of like it.”

The air hangs heavy with tension, thick and almost suffocating. Neither of you dares to move, as if any shift would shatter the moment. The silence between you is electric, every heartbeat magnified, the space between you pulsing with something unspoken.

“You're not going to make this easy, aren't you?” He asked, voice husky and hushed.

“Where's the fun in easy?”

"I like seeing how far I can push before things... change," you murmur, your eyes locking with his, daring him to respond.

He leans in, just a fraction, closing the distance with a teasing, almost unreadable look. "Is that what you want? To see what happens when everything shifts?”

You challenge him with a quiet smile. “Maybe I do”

Porco’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, his breath catching ever so slightly. His pulse quickens, the subtle shift in his expression betraying the tension building between you both. There’s a brief hesitation, a quiet moment where it feels like time itself has paused, before his focus sharpens again, drawn in by something deeper, something he can’t quite pull away from.

“You're going to keep looking, or do something about it?” You challenged.

He chuckles softly, a low rumble vibrating between you two. “You sure you want me to?”

“You're the one getting closer.”

His hand shifts just slightly, brushing against yours, and for a split second, you think he might pull away. But then, his fingers curl around yours, slow and deliberate, the touch grounding in a way that feels more intimate than anything that’s come before.

"Guess you’re right" he murmurs, his voice barely above a breath. "Maybe I’ve already done something about it ”

You take his hand in yours, your fingers gently tracing the rough lines of his calloused skin. The touch is tender, lingering, as if you're mapping out the very contours of his hand, feeling the strength in every worn ridge.

His soft lips graze yours, a delicate touch that lingers in the air. The scent of cigarettes, faint and smoky, clings to him, but it fades as you close your eyes and melt into his kiss. In that moment, the world blurs—the chaos, the noise—everything softens, leaving just the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his presence.

The touch of his warm hand feels like a warm lantern in the dark and cold of the night. It's a comfort, a reassurance that you never knew you needed until now. You wish for nothing more than his touch, his presence, to stay with you, to never let go. In this fleeting moment, everything else fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours. You never want to leave this small, perfect moment.

You pull apart first, your cheek flushed, the rush of blood making your head spin. You’ve kissed others before—men and women, but none of those kisses were like this. Not this urgent, not this brief. There’s something about it that stirs something deeper inside you. You feel shy, vulnerable, as if something sacred has just unfolded between you. His warm eyes meet yours, looking at you with such intensity that it threatens to overwhelm you. Something catches in your throat, and you blink rapidly, fighting back tears. It’s a moment you never want to forget, a fleeting piece of time you wish you could hold on to forever.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, hand caressing yours.

You swallow, steadying your breath. “I—yeah, just… I never felt like this. Its so different.”

“Different good, I hope?” He said softly, placing his forehead gently against yours.

You nodded, the closeness is making your heart race. “Yeah, different good”

He stays there for a heartbeat longer, unwilling to pull away, as if afraid the quiet connection between you might vanish the moment he does. The world around you is eerily still—too still for a soldier like him. It feels too gentle, too faint, a softness he's not accustomed to. His heart beats faster, the silence pressing in around you both.

You rest your head to his shoulder, looking at the cigarette in your hand so fondly. “It's so…quiet”

He shifts slightly, his warmth pressing against you, grounding you in the quiet. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice almost drowned by the peace surrounding you both. “Feels strange, doesn’t it?” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curls upwards, disappearing into the night.

“I feel like a storm is about to happen” You whispered, voice certain. The words hang in the air, as if they were supposed to happen.

He turned towards you, his expression unreadable for a moment as he studied your face. "Ugh, I hate this," He muttered, a dry humor lacing his voice. "After this hell of a storm, there's another one waiting. What a drag." He let out a short, humorless chuckle, but his face remained unreadable, the tension in his eyes betraying the joke.

“A warrior can’t catch a break, huh?” You teased, a grin playing at the edges of your lips.

“Nope,” he shot back, the word blunt, almost with a hint of amusement, as if the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him.

“Honestly, if I were a Titan Shifter, there’s no way I’d have the guts to bite my hand or slice it open to transform,” You say, chuckling at the thought of it.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a grin. "You should try it, it’s a real rush." He taps the cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the ground.

You shake your head, smiling “Uh—huh, sure. ‘cause nothing says fun like turning into a giant nutcracker wrecking everything in sight.”

“It's oddly therapeutic, you should try it sometime. Nothing like the feeling of smashing stuff to really clear your head.”

The banter continues, but with each passing minute, the mood shifts. Your laughter fades, swallowed by the deeper currents of the conversation. You both sit there, the world moving around you, but the two of you remain anchored to the moment, surrounded by the haze of smoke and words that were meant to be light but now feel heavy.

Your cigarette, now little more than a smoldering nub, threatens to fall, but neither of you moves to snuff it out. It's one of those moments that doesn’t seem to need much attention, as if the world’s outside the bubble you’ve created. A bubble where jokes come easy and laughter rings free, even though neither of you could be further from truly being carefree.

You glance over at him—the man beside you, Porco Galliard. The man who has seen and done things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The man whose hands have taken countless lives for the sake of his country, soldiers who never had a chance. The man who wears the burden of the Titan Shifters curse like a second skin. And yet, despite all of that, here he is, sitting beside you, casually flicking ash from his cigarette as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.

"You think smashing things is fun?" you ask again, this time with less sarcasm, more curiosity. A genuine question.

Porco pauses, his gaze shifting toward the horizon for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is steady but edged with something darker. "I'm smashing things because of orders. It's not fun at all. It's torture.”

“You ever get tired of it?" You ask, not sure what answer you're hoping for. You expect him to laugh, to brush it off, maybe even make another joke. But instead, he seems to sink deeper into his thoughts, his gaze fixed on something distant.

“Tired? You don't get tired. You just keep going, that's all you can do. You just keep moving and hope that you're not too far gone to realize you've lost everything.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final, but you can see it in his eyes—he knows the truth. He’s lost everything. The weight of it settles around him like a shroud, suffocating, unspoken. He still has his parents, but that’s not enough. Not without Marcel. Without Marcel, what’s left for him? The bond they shared, the brotherhood, was the one thing that tethered him to something real, something that made the endless violence and sacrifice bearable. But now, in the aftermath, it’s all gone.

You listen to Porco’s words, and for a moment, the air between you feels thick, like there’s more than just the weight of the conversation in that space. There’s something you both share now, something you never thought you’d relate to.

Your fingers brush the cold metal of the lighter in your pocket, instinctively reaching for it. You’ve held it a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels heavier than it ever has. The two wings carved into the surface—delicate and intricate—are a reminder of a place you can never go back to, a memory that’s already fading at the edges. A gift from back home. A piece of something you’ve left behind, but it doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. It feels like a weight.

Guilt surges up from somewhere deep inside you, twisting your stomach. You close your eyes for a brief second, overwhelmed by the flood of memories that rush in. Home, warmth, faces you can’t recall without pain. The weight of responsibility that was thrust upon your shoulders—too young, too unprepared, yet here you are, carrying the same heavy burden that Porco now bears, the same impossible task of surviving a world that seems to demand too much.

Your hand tightens around the lighter, but the feeling of loss doesn’t ease. It only makes the ache sharper, a reminder that you can’t go back, and you can’t undo what’s already been done.

“I have also lost some important people in my life, the people that have shaped me to be who I am now.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a brief moment, you almost regret saying anything at all. But there's a truth in it, something raw and real that hangs in the air between you both. The people who helped mold you, who gave you purpose, who made you feel human—those are the ones that stick with you, long after they’re gone. And it’s their absence that leaves the deepest scars.

“It’s like they’re still with you, but not really,” you add, your voice distant. “You carry them with you, but sometimes it feels like they’re just ghosts. And all you can do is try to make sense of it all, even when it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

"You know," he says after a beat, the humor in his voice gone, replaced by something more subdued, "sometimes I wonder if I'd be less of a mess if he was still around. Maybe he could’ve talked me out of some of the shit I’ve done.”

You don’t respond right away. The shift in his tone isn’t lost on you. It’s not the playful jab you’d been expecting, but something rawer, something closer to the truth than either of you had expected to share.

"You don't need him to tell you what’s right or wrong, Porco," you say softly, trying to keep the conversation grounded. "You’ve been making your own choices for a long time now. Maybe it’s time you stop leaning on ghosts to figure out what you’re doing.”

Porco’s gaze flickers toward you, a wry smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess you’re right. But it sure would’ve been nice to have someone who actually got it. Someone who didn't treat me like a fucking weapon.”

You feel the words hit you harder than expected. "You know, you’re not just a weapon, Porco. And you’re not the only one who's ever felt like one." The words spill out before you can stop them, the quiet vulnerability in your own voice surprising even you. You didn’t expect to be the one offering comfort here, but somehow, it feels right.

Porco takes a long moment to respond, staring at the cigarette between his fingers before flicking the ash off into the night. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to feel like one when that’s all anyone’s ever used you for.”

You don’t have an answer for that. Instead, you let the quiet settle in again, the space between you two filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words.The conversation, like everything else, eventually fades into something quieter, easier. But there’s still the lingering feeling that, despite the ghosts, despite the weight of everything that’s been said and done, you’re both still here. Still standing. Still breathing.

“Maybe one day we’ll stop letting the past haunt us so much,” you say, almost to yourself, more as a hope than a statement. "Maybe then we’ll figure out who we really are, without all the ghosts.”

Porco glances at you, that familiar smirk returning, though there’s something softer about it now. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t hold my breath."

You grin, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, well, we’ve been breathing this long, haven’t we?”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the world feels a little lighter, the weight of the past suspended in the air around you. The sound of your laughter breaks the tension, and you take a deep breath, letting it all go for just a second.

You glance down at the short bud of your cigarette, finally snuffing it out on the ground, watching as the small amber glow fades.

"This has been one interesting conversation, don't you think?" you say, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, it has been," he says, his voice softening a bit. "I kinda enjoyed this..." He glances at you for a moment, his expression unexpectedly earnest, before looking down and snuffing out his own cigarette.

You yawn, the small droplets of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. The conversation had been so engaging, so full of playful teasing and back-and-forth, that you hadn't even noticed how tired you were becoming. The words and laughter had kept you wide awake, but now, with the sudden stillness between you two, the exhaustion caught up to you all at once.

You rub your eyes, stifling another yawn, and glance at Porco. "Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was," you admit, your voice a bit slower now. "This conversation’s been so much fun, I almost forgot about sleep.”

Porco glances at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn’t think a conversation could wear you out," he says, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Guess I’m just that interesting, huh?"

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing your eyes. "I think it’s just a combination of you and how late it’s gotten.”

Feeling the drowsiness creeping in fully now. Porco watches you for a moment, his smirk replaced with something more genuine. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t keep your bed waiting.”

You flash him a tired smile, nodding.”I'll try, need a shower first though. See you around, Mr. Galliard.”

You pivot on your heel, heading toward the nurses' barrack, but suddenly stop, realizing you’ve forgotten something. Turning back, you casually call over your shoulder, “Oh, and if you ever need some tender, love, and care, just head to the Marley Military Hospital and ask for (Name) (Last name).” You drop your name nonchalantly, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you glance back, you catch Porco scratching the back of his neck, his ears tinged pink, a smirk tugging at his lips. He seems caught off guard, yet amused by your casual remark.

The man glanced at you one last time before walking back in the opposite direction, a strange warmth settling in his chest. There was a sense of closeness, an unspoken connection that lingered in the air. He knew he’d see you again.

As he entered the barrack and made his way to his cot, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside him, the feeling of anticipation and something more—something he couldn’t quite place, leaving him smiling to himself as he settled in for the night.

As he lay down on his cot, the blanket feeling unusually warm around him, a smile spread across his face. There was something about the way you had casually dropped your name, something about the playful teasing and the easy way you two had connected, that had stirred something inside him. It wasn’t just the usual flirtation, it felt like the start of something new, something exciting.

He turned onto his side, eyes closing, but his mind was far from the quiet darkness of the barracks. Instead, it was filled with the memory of your smile, the sound of your voice, and that small spark of warmth he couldn’t ignore.

His heart thudded with that familiar feeling like the glow of a new flame flickering to life. It was different from anything he’d felt before, but it was real. He could feel it deep in his chest, the flutter of excitement, the anticipation of what might come next.

He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, his thoughts still lingering on you. He had a feeling that this new connection—this spark was only just the beginning.

Just like the cigarettes, the two of you had snuffed out the conversation, the words fading into silence. What had been a lively, playful exchange now rested quietly, the air still with the echoes of your teasing and laughter. As the both of you walked away, the moment came to an end, leaving behind a comfortable sense of finality, like the last ember of a cigarette dying out. The connection had been made, and now, it was simply a matter of waiting for the next time.

#porco galliard x reader #porco x reader #porco x fem! reader #porco x you #porco x reader fluff #porco x reader angst #porco fluff #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #porco galliard #porco fanfiction #aot #attack on titan #anime x reader #anime imagines

122 notes · View notes