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diorgirl444 · 2 days ago

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moonlight serenade or the first time reader has sex with dallas winston...

okay first let’s get this out of the way, yes i’m a minor but everyone’s aged up in this fic so don’t come for me. please don’t comment trying to police what’s appropriate for me and what’s not i’m seventeen and where i live i can legally have sex so it’s really not that deep. i’m a young woman - i’m exploring my desires in a healthy safe way and if you cannot shake this livid rage coursing through you maybe try touching some grass. xxx

this fic absolutely could not have been written with out the help of @avroravia she not only proofread it but also edited it and just offered me constant encouragement and support. basically she is just an absolute angel and i implore you to go read her fics right after you finish this 😛 amar thank you and i luv u

warnings: bad writing? (baby’s first time writing smut), um smut obvs (you are responsible for your own media consumption), fem! reader, characters are aged up, reader is a virgin, kinda dom dallas ig tho this wasn’t planned it just happened that way, 2,690 words <3

there is something poetically erotic about dallas winston.

you have known this since the day first saw him: his eyes wild and dark, his grin crooked and breath smelling of whiskey. he is animalistic in his vigor, a power that simmers and hums through his body so that you might think he was the devil. it is beautiful in a twisted way and right now you are more aware of this than ever.

shadows are cast across his face, and he leans over you in nothing but his oil stained wifebeater and jeans. he's smiling down at you, tickling you with kisses along your neck. this is as far as you've gone and because of your lack of experience as far as you've wanted to go for a long time. but right now with his st christopher glinting and dangling down in front of your gaze all you can think about how much you want him. how much you want all of him from his calloused palms to his voice made raspy with cigarettes.

“i want you to fuck me”

it comes out before you can you can think it through, words unbidden and unwanted choking your throat up. your face flushes hot and you press your hand to your mouth as if you can put them back where they came from but it’s too much too late.

he laughs lowly, voice making your skin break out into goosebumps and his hand toys with the edge of your nightdress.

“you mean that angel? you want me to be your first doll?” he grins, teeth glinting vampire like in the low light.

if you weren’t flustered before you are now from his teasing tone and you hide your face in your hands which only makes him laugh more.

“oh baby don’t hide your pretty face from me” he says before gently pulling you hands away. you’re greeted with a more genuine smile then before and he fondly tucks a stand of hair behind you ear.

“if you really mean that - i’d be real lucky to be your first, seriously i know i talk a lot of shit but if you really are sure then i’m gonna make you feel so nice” as he speaks the rough pads of his fingers draw circles along your thighs in what you’re sure is supposed to be a soothing gesture but is actually incredibly distracting. to be fair though you find everything he does distracting.

he looks at you like he’s waiting for an answer so you nod and he shakes her head.

“nah, i wanna hear you say it,” he murmurs, “say it f’me”

“please dal...” you say, shocked by how breathy your voice has become but he groans softly and it makes something pleasant creep up your gut.

“please - christ - sweetest thing i’ve ever known ain’t you?” he says hands slowly making their ascent but to your disappointment they go right up to resting on your waist. seeing your pout he smirks.

“impatient thing too, i bet. you want me to take it off?” dallas whispered, fingers lightly tugging on the soft silk straps of your nightdress.

slowly he pulls it up off you and though you’re terribly shy laying there in nothing but your now wet cotton panties, his face makes up for it.

“christ you look so fuckin’ good” he rasps lowly, tongue darting out to hungrily trace his lip.

despite your nerves you lean forward slightly and lift his vest over his head. you’ve seen dallas shirtless before and so feel confident navigating it as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. a small offering of affection where words are difficult.

and he seems to understand as he guides your hands to the cool metal of his belt buckle, your trembling fingers unclasping it and brushing over him. he groans softly and so with confidence from who knows where you press more intentionally, gasping slightly at the way he bucks into you.

“tease” he grunts out, pupils dark with something you’ve only seen a couple times before and something that makes you press your legs together absentmindedly. pushing you hand away he finally pulls his jeans fully off and you stare desperately at your boyfriend in nothing but his boxers. beautiful feels an understatement, a word that is much too fragile to describe how he looks. in fact it feels like your whole brain is simply humming with him, anything else feels deeply unimportant.

you watch as his big hands, all of him is big really, settle on the inside of your thighs. making purchase on the skin there in such a way that you wonder if there will be marks, you hope there is. that you can take a part of him with you everywhere, a marker of what it is to be touched by such a man as dallas winston.

he idly thumbs at the small bow of your panties before slipping his hand beneath the soft fabric, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth teasingly. the soft mewl you let out at his touch would be humiliating were it not for the way pleasure sparks through you as his fingers part your folds. you’ve touched yourself before sure but it has never felt like this, dallas’s fingers just so much bigger and experienced then yours. as if he knows what you need before you do.

“god you’re already so fuckin’ needy... soakin’ wet” his teasing voice drawls out but formulating a response is much too hard now his finger has found your clit and is drawing soft little teasing circles over it - both not enough and too much at once. he speeds up ever so slightly, smirking cockily at the soft gasp he draws from you. he’s lazy as he strokes you - as if he has all the time in the world and all he wants to do is watch your lashes flutter and feel the way you absentmindedly buck against hand.

the thing is though it’s not just the way his fingers know just what you do to make you feel good, though of course that is part of it but it’s just him as a whole. the way you’re completely sarrounded by him, his large frame dwarfing your smaller one, the smell of cigarettes and his shaving cream that seems to permeate the air, the praises that he almost reverently mumbles but mainly it’s the fact that it’s him. your dal - your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first love and now your first..

you whine softly when he suddenly pulls his hand away, brows scrunched up but he simply shakes his head and licks his fingers clean before fully hiking your panties down your legs.

“taste like honey” he tells you, his warm brown eyes fluttering shut at the taste.

grinning all teeth, he thumbs at it watching the way your hole flutters and clenches around nothing, dribbling down onto your floral bedsheets below.

you blink up at him through hooded lashes, the way girls do in movies and hope it is enough to seduce him into touching you again. once again though he seems to understand what you need without you even speaking as he tentatively pushes the pad of his finger into you. the gasp you let out is sinful, even just the tiniest part of him making you feel more full than ever before. gently he nudges the finger further in, eyes zeroed on the way the tight hole sucks it in like a vice. once it’s fully in he begins, slowly at first - easing you through the rhythms as he fucks you. grunting lowly as if he’s getting pleasure just from the way your face scrunches up and body trembles.

“shit - think - think you can take another one baby” he asks is as if he’s not already pushing it in, making you feel impossibly full.

he’s faster now, clear goal in mind as he stretches and curls his fingers till he finds what he’s staring for. when he feels the way you clench around him and offer him a delicious moan he knows he has. with renewed vigour he rubs that spot inside you till it’s almost too much, your legs kicking out, hands almost trying to push him away.

“dal - oh - i” you’re babbling out softly as the sensations course through you, but he just hums encouragingly.

with his free hand that had been resting on your thigh he trails it down to you clit - rubbing it in quick, tight figure-8s whilst curling the ones inside of you against that spongey spot. without warning it suddenly happens, like a pot bubbling over as you tighten around his two fingers and spill out. lips keening out a high-pitched sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as your lashes shutter quickly. that earlier tension softening to the most wonderful feeling that has your body trembling and arching.

when you come to, eyes opening you’re greeted with brown eyes glancing over you. his gaze softer then you’ve ever seen it as he messily kisses you and mumbles against your mouth “did so good for me doll - can’t wait to feel you cum like that on my cock”

“need you now dal” you whisper back using your legs to pull him in closer - it’s not enough you want to be as close to him as possible.

following your encouragement he quickly rids himself of his boxers and finally he is fully bare before you. what strikes you about dallas is the lack of shyness, as if he knows that every part of him is harshly beautiful. grecian statue with his broad nose, lightly muscular chest and his now hardened cock. he holds out a condom and with his hands leading yours, you roll it onto his dick. tentatively wrapping your small hands around it and being rewarded with a gravelly moan. “next time baby” he says and you watch, entranced as he angles himself perfectly with his palms tightly gripping your hips.

“might hurt at first babydoll but it’s gonna feel real good pretty soon okay?” he warns, brows furrowed with the tension of waiting. you nod impatiently, grabbing onto shoulders as if you can push him in by them alone.

he laughs, classic crooked grin on his face. “god real greedy aren’t you?”

his smirk is knocked off his face when he slowly pushes in, groaning lowly at how tight you are still. he’s right, there’s a slight sting between your legs but you trust him that it will get nicer. his fingers seemed big earlier but now you know they were nothing compared to the way just the head of his makes you. ever so slowly he bullies his way into you, a bead of sweat clinging to his brow as he pushes all the way. when he’s finally full sheaved, you whimper - the feeling indescribable and like nothing you’ve ever known.

“gonna... gonna... fuck... move now okay pretty girl?” he rasps out, pressing his forehead to yours. you can do nothing but nod, as your breath is stolen from you.

purposefully he begins to move, rocking in and out of you and the sting has faded now, replaced by white hot beams of pleasure that course through you with each of his movements. his mouth finds your neck and your collarbone and your breasts - basically any part of you within reach and you are almost certain there will be marks tomorrow. the steady pace is torturous now though and almost tearfully you beg him, pouting “dallas - need more!”

“spoilt little thing needs more hm?” he says and if your eyes weren’t closed you would of seen the devilish grin on his face.

and the thing is with dallas he truly can never backdown from a challenge. without warning he speeds up, a truly punishing pace that leaves you feeling such intense pleasure that all you can do is lie there and take it, your body boneless as you moan and babble.

“too much? just gonna have to fuckin’ take it…” his teasing words only serve to make you even more humiliating wet - your body having an almost pavlovian response when he mocks you.

he laughs cruelly, the pad of his thumb finding your bud and rubbing tight little circles as he jackhammers into you.

“christ- you’re so fuckin’ tight”

you can feel that familiar pleasure coming over you - your body tightening up as he continues his frantic movements. you think he’s getting close to from the way his words have faded into animalistic grunts, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and the st christopher bouncing against his bare chest. he suddenly pinches your clit and that’s all it takes. your body seizes up, eyes rolling back as you cum all over his cock. the pleasure comes in waves, rolling over you as you dig your nails into his back to ground yourself.

you tightening around him is the last push he need and with a loud moan of your name he comes into the condom, head tiredly falling against your shoulder as the high fades.

“shit wasn’t too rough was i? was tryna be gentle but then you had to give me those damn fuck-me eyes and i lost it” he says and if you didn’t know any better you might think he was feeling a bit insecure.

you smile softly though and shake your head “dal i’m so glad it was you” his ego restored he shrugs, smirking as he pulls out of you. he rises and you feel a stab in your gut - is he leaving? catching your gaze he rolls his eyes.

“cool yourself duchess, i’m just getting you something to clean you up okay?” you flush, pleased and embarrassed all at once but true to his word he reappears with a flannel wet with warm water which he uses to gently wipe you clean. once that’s done he curls up beside you, loosely wrapping his arm around your middle.

“sleep now - delicate things like you need their rest after their hot greaser boyfriends rail them within an inch of their life” he grins against your shoulder and you scoff softly, too tired to bicker. still with his arm slung around you and the warmth of his breath on your neck you’ve never felt more loved. you really are lucky to have dallas winston as your first.

bonus the next morning:

“what’s that on your necklace dal - next to the st christopher?”

“oh that it’s just your purity ring?”

“why on god’s name do you have that!” what if my parents see! they’ll kill you!”

“well shit angel it’s not like you need it anymore - not after the way i fucked you stupid last night ”

“i hate you...”

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

#diorgirl444 #flo answers #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston #dally winston #dallas winston imagine #the outsiders dally #dally the outsiders #dallas winston x fem! reader #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston headcanons #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x you #the outsiders x oc #the outsiders x y/n #matt dillon x reader #matt dillon #dallas winston smut

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littlerequiem · 8 months ago

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we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> 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, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Refugees all around. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom; there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then. Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home—a one-story cottage located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just a ten minutes' walk from Onyankopon's home.

Levi's life, as it were, became ordinary.

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, with a broken fence. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kinds of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

Despite this, his routines have stayed the same. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for most people to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way.

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

As for other patterns in his life, Levi keeps busy. He sees his doctor on a weekly basis; he's taken a job at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even when his mind fights him against it. His leg hurts some days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, Levi's regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon is on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side, “can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

“Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi's heart stutters, your words pulling something in him. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick when he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Mhm,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to scram.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary one day. He tells you that there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

“I have the new recruit’s file with me. You might have seen him around,” Erwin says as you inspect the wound. "His name is Levi."

In lieu of a response, you give him a nod, not thinking much of this passing comment. This is probably just patient small talk.

You should have known better. Erwin Smith isn't a man known for triviality.

“I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”

You pause at Erwin's words, eyes shifting away from the stitches. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Levi's just lost his friends, and that's made his integration... complicated. He's flighty and hot-headed; he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, that won't do—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad. I need him operational.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then shifts his focus back on you.

Waiting on your answer.

“I’ll... I'll see what I can do, sir.”

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms to the back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir…" You rise to your feet as well. "Though, knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him out.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. “I believe Levi is one of a kind—that with him, we may be giving humanity a fighting chance.”

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves roll in.

Mare. This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi spent the first hours of the day cleaning his house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt. But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready, and he's now driving Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of dark wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi denies. He's not nervous, not really. He just needs silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted his comrades, he trusted Erwin. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this agitated, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of the uncertainty... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, you never stopped writing to him. Levi's glad of that.

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

And so, with Falco’s and Gabi’s help, he made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He got a bed, a night table, a wardrobe, a desk. All of it was arranged into the spare room in his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him about it. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi had just finished fastening a mirror to the wall when she said this; he scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you... even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He knows it will. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he fears he will drown you if you come too close.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours. It's the first time you're up close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice is deep, slightly grated, but not unpleasant.

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain from now on, come to me directly, alright?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help; it's important to take care of injuries before they worsen." A pause, one where you weigh each thought carefully. "That said... you also have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what are you, some kind of doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. You dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown,” you say. In the last month, Levi's only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow. “It looks good… it suits you.”

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head.

“Hey, um…”

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, he expected many things just not... that.

In his stupor, Levi can't think of the right words to say to you, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

(Relief for what, he doesn't know.)

Your hands briefly linger on his forearms. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself. “C’mon, we’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve hugged her properly, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is throbbing.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you. Shit—he didn’t mean to snap. Five minutes in, and he’s already screwing this up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind; you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead. From the corner of his eyes, he watches you purchase three lemonade bottles, a hand-out for this summer day.

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

“Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.” You hum. “I’ve never started over. Not like this. I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, an ex-thug from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble in every sense of the word.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.”

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he says.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah, I don’t know,” you say softly. You've moved to the windows, your fingers feeling the beige curtains. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff at him, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The gentleness in your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me.” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door.

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a distinct sound that comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh..." you say, "what's this?”

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Yeah."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement. Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digit.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"She didn't have an owner?"

"No, she was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris less than three months ago; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the frail thing. Taking her in was only meant to be a temporary thing and yet, here she still was.

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

“Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong, again. “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens. “Not at all. This feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat, turning away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

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