#levi x beekeeper reader

[lesinquietes]

After four farmer’s markets, Levi makes the mistake of telling Hange about you. He knows the moment your name leaves his mouth that he’s dug his grave. They freak out. They ask him if you’re pretty, if you sell good honey, and if he wants to marry you. Light pink settles like dust across his sun-kissed cheeks as he diverts his sour gaze and mutters that the answers to their questions are irrelevant. They know that means he likes you. Mentally, they make it their mission to set the two of you up.

Hange attends the next market with Levi. They use the excuse that they miss these sorts of things, but he knows better. They just want to catch a glimpse of you. When you arrive to set up your table, they wait eagerly until you’re done to connect. They introduce themselves and gush about your honey stand. Your eye twitches uncomfortably when they shake your hand. Levi smirks. You make eye contact with him. He’s propped up against his stall, arms crossed, thoroughly amused by your reaction to his friend. Hange doesn’t stop until you ask them to give you a little space. Promptly, they apologize and scurry back to the blackette. Giddy as a kid who ate too much candy, they insist that you’re perfect for him.

At the end of the day, Levi tells Hange to leave while he packs up their goods. They oblige, exhausted from chattering with customers all afternoon. Besides, why not give the two of you some alone time while they take a cat nap in the truck? They bid you a good evening and wish you well. You mimic their regard. Levi doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes when they turn their back, however. He chuckles softly beneath his breath. Maybe you are meant for him.

He approaches you when you’re packed. You look as though you’re expecting him. He asks what you thought of the bespeckled eccentric. Hesitantly, you posit that they seem to mean well. He admits that they’re insanity incarnate. That’s enough to make you break your pleasantries and laugh. He smiles warmly. It’s nice to hear you act natural with him. He feels safe around you, too.

He doesn’t normally bond with others. He’s experienced such vast, heartbreaking loss in his life, that he likes to keep his circle tight. So, it surprised him when he felt an attraction to you. He believes something powerful exists between the two of you.

Before he can stop himself, he asks if you want to have tea with him. It’s a huge risk. You blink and ask him if he means right now. He freezes for a second. He doesn’t have to think hard; the answer comes naturally to him. Yes, now.

By the time seven o’clock hits, you’re on the porch of Erwin’s farm, a cup of lemonade in your hands, reclining on a cozy chair next to Levi. The blonde comes down to greet you. Then, he excuses himself. He wants to give Levi space to do as he pleases with you. Thus, he posits that he’s going to visit Hange. Levi scoffs. He knows they’re going to gossip about him. So what if it’s obvious he’s attracted to you? He thinks half the world would be, if they truly saw you. They don’t see what he does.

Levi fantasizes about scooping you into his strong arms and carrying you into the house. Your legs would wrap around his in a frenzy as he planted kisses along your neckline. Pressing your body close to his, you would grind your core against his desire, vying for him to ruin you. And he would — he fucking would. He would ruin you so that no other can satisfy you like he can; so that he’s the only one you can think of when you reach your peak. You would mewl and moan for him to go harder, to fuck you deeper, to claim you. Why, he laments, are you so goddamn tempting?

But, as he sits across from you, gently nudging his foot into yours, smiling gingerly as you tell him about your family, he knows this isn’t the time for him to act. A sweet thing like you is liable to be frightened of the dominant spirit he harbours if you catch a glimpse of it too soon. He’s not in a rush; he’s content to sit back and learn about you for a while. The time will undoubtedly come wherein he subjects you go every single fantasy he’s manifested in his head.

He listens to you intently, all the while imagining peeling every layer of clothing from your beautiful body.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[miekasa]

i’m not creative enough to think of something random so imma give you a song title lmao how about PURE/HONEY

—🖤

1. eren x reader, percy jackson/demi-god au

Eren might be new to camp half-blood, but he’s not new to the imminent danger and consequential wounds that litter his body. He’s heard the rumors that too much ambrosia can make-gods feverish and bloodthirsty, but he finds it hard to believe, when you’re the one who serves it to him so sweetly.

2. levi x reader, post-war au

If first time the concept of honey is explained to levi, he’s equal parts confused and offended—should his desires of opening his own tea shop come to fruition, he would have no parts of honey in his blends; his patrons would respect his expertise and experienced brewing without the additives of bee-byproduct. That is, until he meets you, the lovely florist and beekeeper a mere two doors down from a prospective new store. Honey isn’t sweet like sugar, but it sure leaves Levi with sticky, syrupy feelings to cope with.

(send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i’d write).

[lesinquietes]

Another thing about Levi is that, although it’s one of his primary love languages, having sex isn’t a dealbreaker for him. If you’re not down, he’d much rather spend time doing something you choose together. Sometimes it’s a walk. Sometimes it’s brunch at the local cafe. Sometimes it’s just sitting with each other in silence, both of you occupied with totally different things. It doesn’t matter, so long as he gets to be with you.

He moves into your farmhouse after three months of dating. It’s comfortable. He doesn’t demand many changes to your decor or living style; he simply exists with you. Gossip around town dictates that the move was too quick. You and Levi disagree. When it feels right, it feels right.

Nothing changes drastically during your first while together. Your feelings for him grow, as do his. The love he harbours for you becomes sicker, at some point, but it’s difficult to notice on account of how much he reigns in his toxicity. He wants to ask you about not speaking to your friends as much anymore; instead, he strives to show you how supportive he can be. Why would you go to others when you can just come to him? He also wants to ask you about retiring from bee farming and letting him take over most of your daily tasks. Alas, you’re addicted to what you do, and he knows you wouldn’t take kindly to him requesting that you give it up. So, he makes himself useful, all while glued to your side.

It enough — for a year, at least. Then, he’ll think about proposing. It’s funny. In the first few weeks that he met you, he deeply considered popping the question. Now, here you are, primed and ready for him.

He’s grateful that he’s been able to repress these impulses; he’s not sure what he would have done if he’d scared you off. Nothing good. He has a sordid history of crime, after all. He supposes the only reason he’s only really able to remain calm is because you chose him.

Imagine if you hadn’t.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[lesinquietes]

One thing about Levi is that he’s a gentleman. He holds doors open and pulls out your chair. He takes your hand and gently tucks you on the other side of him when you’re walking near the road. He ensures it’s him to who picks up the bill, even if you insist. Perhaps the cutest gesture of all is how often he observes you with bees, extracting honey and transporting hives when needed. He’s fascinated by your attachment to the small insects… and perplexed — until you show him one up close. You bring him to one of your apiaries and explain why they’re so essential to life. It turns out they’re totally harmless unless they’re frightened. With a small smile, he admits that they’re pretty damn cute, too. Not as cute as you, though.

On your third date, he asks you to be his woman. Without hesitation, you agree. He thought you would. The two of you are barely apart these days. He can sense that you’re as comfortable with him as he is with you. That’s one of rhetorical reasons why he asks you if you’d like to come back to his place. Erwin is out of town, so you’re more than welcome to spend the night.

He drives you over. There’s a giddiness to you that can’t be concealed. It stirs the lustful beast within him. Innocent, sweet, and his — he can’t wait to ravage you. You may have had others prior, but tonight, all you’ll know is him.

He guides you into his and Erwin’s shared home. You inspect the place casually, commenting on the decor and asking him about a few family photos. He discovers that it’s simple to be transparent with you. Slowly, he leads you up to his bedroom. You don’t reject his advances when he accepts your hand in his and kisses your knuckles gingerly. Instead, you exhale deeply. He reels you into his chest and claims your lips, unable to be satiated without them.

Eventually, you’re half-dressed in his bed. His shirt is off, and his pants are about to be discarded. His ebony locks are a mess atop his head, as are your delicate tresses. You’ve never looked more gorgeous than this, vulnerable and unravelled for him. He takes you with a softness that all but ascends you. Calloused fingertips travel along your flesh, investigating what your clothes have always hidden. His member finds its way into your intimacy, thrusting as deeply as you’ll let him. In limbo, you cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and begging for your release. He dips down to graze his teeth along your neck, deliberating on where to bite. He settles on a spot near your collarbone. When he sinks down and suckles on the tender area, you reach your peak. The tension building in your gut snaps, and the way his fingers feel, rolling your clit back and forth, becomes far too much.

In the aftermath, his cum is dribbling out of you. You’re wrapped tightly in his arms, falling into a slumber on his chest. He stares at the ceiling, just as he does most night; except this time, he’s smiling. Maybe rest will come easier this evening, with you here.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[lesinquietes]

Levi is grumpy. He works most of these shitty farmer’s markets for his pal, Hange, who crafts her own jams. When he was down on his luck, she and Erwin took him in to work on their fields. They grow an assortment of fruits and veggies to handcraft goods. When they first started bringing him to these events, in rain or shine, with a crowd of people or just a few, he didn’t care for them — and he still doesn’t. He’s not one to socialize much. Everyone wants to talk. He just wants to give them their jams and call it a day. He can’t seem to control the resting bitch face that emerges when the tenth person announces how nice of a day it is for a farmer’s market. He wishes he could tell them to shut up.

Today, you set up your stand next to his. It surprises him. Most of the locals know he likes his space. You must be new here. He watches as you lay down a yellow tablecloth and place various types of honey onto the surface. He hums. So, you’re a beekeeper. The town hasn’t had one of those since Dot Pixis passed away last Fall.

When you’re done preparing, you go over and introduce yourself to him. You look to be about his age, in your thirties. He likes that you don’t continue to make conversation. You sense he’s not a talker. Maybe you aren’t, either. He’s officially sold on you when you finish selling to a particularly inquisitive older couple. Your expression echoes his own exhaustion. You muster a small, sweet smile and mutter, people need to mind their own fucking business. Immediately, he knows these dreadful markets won’t be half as bad anymore.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[lesinquietes]

Levi passes by your property on his way home from work one evening and decides to pop in. He likes a bit of honey in his tea. He doesn’t want to admit it’s an excuse to see you again.

Your apiary is colourful. The boxes where the hives are kept sit in your green field, boasting pale shades of red, blue, and yellow. The distant sound of intermittent humming is pleasant to his ears. Nature has always brought him peace. He knocks on your door. No one answers. He hears noise somewhere behind the house. He follows the racket and finds you in the shed, trying to deal with a rogue hive. Despite the stings littering your hands and arms, he thinks you’re the best person for this task. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, steely orbs watching you in action. He isn’t accustomed to bees. He can’t help unless you direct him, but to interrupt your flow would be a disservice to your craft. A smirk tugs at his lips as he sees you clip the queen and carefully pull her out of the bees. Case in point, you didn’t need him.

You turn around, grinning triumphantly. But when you see him standing there, you gasp. You didn’t even hear him come in. Wordlessly, he steps out of the way to let you pass. You blink, frazzled and out of it; nonetheless, you march past him to deliver the plucked queen to an isolation chamber. Finally, with the hard part done, he asks you how he can help. You laugh. You tell him he’s been great moral support thus far, and that he should keep doing that. He admires your sarcasm as much as it makes him cringe.

By the time you finish transporting all the bees, he still waiting to buy honey. You clue in that he’s a customer and apologize. He shrugs. Your passion for innocent little creatures kept you; he thinks that’s a good excuse. You smile. As thanks, you try to give him a free jar. He refuses. You just got here and you could probably use the money. He knows what it’s like to struggle. He purchases raw honey from you. If you really want to do something nice for him, you’ll keep showing up to those shitty farmer’s markets.

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𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲