#young levi ackerman

[levihandynasty]

∘𓈒⚬⋆𓆣🪡Needle Through a Bug🪡𓆣⋆⚬𓈒∘

Ship: Kenny Ackerman x Uri Reiss Word Count: 3970 Prompt Word: Punish

Tw/Cw: Cruelty/Torture of an insect, self harm, Eating disorders, Fatphobic language.

Please note: I am in no way, shape, or form fatphobic.

He should have been there. He should have stood by to support Uri as he gave his life to the jaws of his niece. 

“He doesn't want you there! Fuck off!” The fat fuck had pushed him back into the night, his fat fists pounding on Kenny's chest to keep him from once more attempting to make an entry.

 “Hey, calm your tits, he told me to-”.

 “It doesn't matter! He changed his mind, now head back to whatever part of the sewers you crawled out from, and leave us be!”

 His mouth was as fat as his head, and his head as fat as his body. Kenny had always thought him dumb, “Ugly fuck” he would have pushed past him, found a way of entry and been there for Uri as they had agreed, if it hadn't been for that child that now stared daggers into his soul. Was that her? Was that the girl who would soon devour Uri whole? Was she staring out of hate, or perhaps curiosity? 

“We had an agreement” Kenny began his next argument. Uri had promised him that he would get to see this ritual of theirs, this transformation of man. It would be beneficial to the both of them, Uri had said. For that way Kenny's thirst would be quenched, if even for just a moment. And Uri, though he hadn't voiced this to Kenny, wouldn't have to feel as scared, if he could look past the beast that was his niece, and catch a glimpse of this man, his companion.

An argument started was never finished, for the girl who's curiosity had brought her out of hiding now looked up to Kenny with eyes so similar to his. Yet deep within those eyes laid fear, a fear Kenny quickly assumed was aimed towards his presence there. A look he never thought Uri could carry, if only he could have looked inside- maybe they weren't so similar after all? “Get your hand off of me”

Finally giving in, Kenny smacked Rod's hand away from himself, staring down at the short man with enough hatred to feed Satan for days. Then he turned, and he didn't look back even once as he walked away from the chapel that would become his.. companions.. final resting place.

Upon arriving home, Kenny found his nest to be much emptier than usual, much colder than he remembered it ever being before. It felt as if the building itself had lost Its spark, its soul.

Kenny moved around a lot, never stayed in the same place for more than a week at the time. Rarely he would return to a residence he had resided in before, it only ever happened if the owner was a new one from the first time he had been there. It was easiest that way, helped him avoid detection when needed, and also eased his mind somewhat. He would have continued this path even if he had lived a normal life, that much he was certain of. However, this also meant that Uri had never set foot in his current residence, so it had no reason to feel the way it did now.

Cold, like how Kuchels's room had felt when he found her for the last time. And much like back then, the tall man silently leant against a dry wood wall, feeling how the rough texture lifted his coat and allowed splinters to dig themselves Into his back. He didn't mind the pain, not now. In fact, a smile crept onto his lips, for in some ways this felt good.

The wall was run-down enough to release splinters large enough to cut through his clothes, draw blood. The owner must be some drunkard who doesn't know how to care for his rooms. The splinters dug into his back as those teeth must have dug into Uri. He wondered what it must have felt like? For those teeth are much larger than any splinter, needle, or knife. Had they offered him something to drink? Eased his pain before tradition forced him to take his final breath? Was he even dead yet? Or was he still chained up down there?

Enough thinking, a drink sounded damn good right now.

If only the drink had been cold, perhaps it would have actually been good. No matter, it went down Kenny's throat in large gulps anyway, a desperate attempt at numbing his mind before the thoughts grew too unkind. Was beer like blood if you imagined it hard enough? Lukewarm beer down a cold man's throat, like a small man's blood down into a large woman's stomach.

He spat it out. The last sip of beer he took was taken at the halfway mark of his bottle, and so the bottle met with the wall before him, flying through stale air before colliding hard and shattering into a million pieces. It's blood soaking the floorboards, its bones cracked and splintered, mangled, as if- 

The images of Uri's body, wrecked and torn, was no more than speculation from Kenny's side. If that piglet had just let him in, there would have been no room for this, he would have known exactly how he had looked, perhaps it would have given him peace?

Although Kenny didn't know why he sought peace, he had known of Uri’s eventual fate since they met. He had been prepared for this day since the day Uri explained to him how their world worked. Never had he had a problem with it, in fact he found it fascinating. Power granted down the generation through the death of one's loved ones? It couldn't be anything but fascinating, and Kenny wanted in.

In on the power, not the love.

Love is a weakness.

He had learned that many years ago.

He had been younger then, just returned home with the bastard Kuchel had burdened him with. He never intended to be its father, so that was how he had thought of it for the first week or so, as an it, not a kid, not a human. Though of course that didn't last.

He came home late each and every night, so quickly the runt had learned to feed himself, fight for himself, and bed himself. The second skill always brought a smile to Kenny's face, the kid would be alright. Not that he cared if he lived or died, surely, but the kid would be alright. And it was more than amusing watching something so small cause as much havoc as this one did. Grown men on the ground by the hand of a child that couldn't be anywhere near his puberty yet.

Though he ate like his stomach was endless. The man in charge didn't know much about kids, never had, and never did he learn either. Yet he had taken this as a good sign, he'd grow to be big and strong despite his circumstance, good.

As any Ackerman should.

One of those late nights, Kenny had returned home to an empty house. Weird, usually the kid would make sure Kenny returned before he laid to rest, and on those nights where Kenny didn't return, or returned after the child's fuel had died down, the boy would be sleeping upright, arms crossed over his tiny body, as if waiting for his guardian. Kenny figured perhaps the boy didn't feel completely safe all alone.

This night, Kenny had waited for the boy instead, his tired body raged on as he occupied himself with whatever book the home's owner kept around, or whatever defenseless bug crawled across his table.

With a jar and some toothpicks, Kenny found amusement. 

Icy blue eyes stalked their prey. His breath now silent as he leant down to the old raggedy table, watching the rapid movements of six tiny legs, whilst also making sure not to spook it. He had already lost his battle to four of these flying pests; he refused to lose once more. As the being rushed closer, his breath came to a full stop, he had burned himself on that mistake once before. 

Bang

The jar came down upon the shit-eater like God's hand is said to strike down upon the unrepentant.

And just like that man would, the fly began buzzing about, slamming its hard body against the glass that contained it. And Kenny watched, feeling the heavy jar buzz against his hand as the weak creature used all its little power to fight a useless battle for freedom. It was admirable perhaps, that it managed even this.

Perhaps he himself was God? To those smaller and weaker, perhaps Kenny the Ripper was God.

He let it tire itself out, enjoying the buzzing more the more desperate it grew. “you feeble thing..” It landed for a moment, only to start its panicked frenzy once more “it won't be long now” as if calmed down by his voice, the bug once more landed, stressfully beginning to clean itself. Watching it, Kenny was almost sure it would rip its own head off. Again and again it repeated this action, and every time those tiny legs ran over it's head, Kenny held his breath in anticipation. How could something that lived in filth and shit care so much about being clean? Something so small and worthless had no reason to care for its appearance. 

When you go to meet God, you want to put on your best suit. Perhaps. 

It never did rip its head off, and perhaps this was disappointing to Kenny, he was certain he had seen it before, some fly holding its own head in its hands. Had it been hoping to put it back on? Save its life before it was too late and live to see another day? Maybe not, maybe it had already been long dead, frozen in time, overtaken by death as it acted on its desire to be clean. Being clean meant nothing, as long as you managed to keep your health, a bit of filth wouldn't be the end of you. Stupid thing really, dying while doing something as boring as cleaning. 

The bug's incessant need for cleanliness was becoming bothersome to the man. If he was to let it go, it would fly over to the nearest shit pile it found, so why did it even bother? Useless.

He didn't let it go, of course. Instead he began rapidly shaking the jar back and forth, sending the small helpless creature crashing from wall to wall much harder than it had before. It tried to fly away, and had taken flight the moment the jar started moving. The choice had been between getting crushed by the walls that contained it, lying broken on the rumbling table as the jar again and again would run it over, rub its innards into the porous table and make it part of it. Like soldiers crushed underneath a titans feet, stomped to jam, and later turned to feed for the soil. Or, of course, taking flight and having Its brains scrambled. Did flies have brains? Probably not, he figured.

Once the creature was dizzy enough, Kenny had quickly lifted the jar and tossed it aside, hearing it come crashing down upon the floor somewhere to his left. The kid would probably sweep It up in the morning, if he comes back that is. 

Grabbing old and used toothpicks, the man swiftly turned the being onto its back. Hurriedly those wooden objects had come down upon it, keeping it from moving at all. One pick in each of its wings, keeping it strapped down to the table, its wings outstretched much like the arms of a man chained for slaughter.

A hand laid upon the daggers of wood, keeping them balanced well enough for Kenny to free a hand and use it freely whilst still managing to keep the fly pinned. Watching its strength-less legs kick against the air felt much like reading a good book. 

It wouldn't keep those legs, for Kenny’s free hand soon reached down, sharp unkempt nails gripping onto the fragile limbs, and one by one he'd pluck them off.

“Hey” as a last act of violence towards the bug, Kenny pulled the toothpicks into opposing directions, effectively ripping the things wings off. “You're home” standing up, Kenny's eyes met with the kid who had greeted him. “You're ho-” the child too, had spoken.

The bug had become part of the table anyway, under the palm of this man.

“Didya win?” The kid was all bloody, no wonder he had been late. “that yours?” The boy wasn't replying to him. “hm” the child scoffed, limping his way over to his bed.

At least he was home.

The night reached its time out, and early morning crept in before Kenny went to check on the kid. He had waited til he was certain his slow breathing was the one of a sleeping boy, not an angry one, Kenny would have been angry.

He stood above him, watched each breath he took, watched as his small frame lifted and sank under the thin blanket. So easily breakable.

His face was nearly unrecognizable now, swollen and bruised. Blood still stained the child's lips, crusted in his nose. He slept with his mouth open, perhaps it was all clogged up, broken maybe?

Kenny was angry.

An uncertain hand moved to the boy's face, and much too gently pushed the boy's tangled hair to the side. The fly had never known such tenderness, and after Levi, there had only been one other man who had seen it. 

Yet for a moment, an array of images flashed through Kenny's mind. Images of him gripping the kid by his head, covering his eyes with his palm as he pushes him back into the flat and torn pillow. Raising his other hand, a knife was brought down to the kid's tender throat, digging into it as easily as a spoon through a tub of animal fat. Wasn't much different, really, not with a sharp enough knife and skilled enough hand.

“Kenny?” 

“Kid.” 

“What are you doing?”

He held no knife, yet his hand rested on the boy's clammy forehead. Staring, he must have been staring.

“Sleep with one eye open, kid. Doors are weak, don't ever let your guard down.”

With those words the lanky man left the child to his own devices. His hand who so desperately had ached for its friend, for its completion was finally offered the soothing cold texture of a blade held tightly in its palm. Trembling, Kenny had almost cut himself before finding the handle. Glistening in the dull light of the underground, it wasn't long until the icy metal once more was dirtied by filthy blood. “What kinda fuck picks a fight with a child?”

Words were fleeting, and by the time Kenny sat back down to rest, only after making sure the door was tightly locked behind him; he had already forgotten the advice given to Levi.

Levi however, never forgot.

Kenny had been younger then.

The floorboards had drunk his beverage, leaving naught but a stain. For how long had he been sitting here? His legs had grown all numb, all the way to his hips, his back ached like hell, and not only thanks to the splinters still buried deep into his skin, like a needle through a helpless flailing bug.

Hungry, his stomach was screaming out for anything that would or could fill it. Following the most basic instinct he pushed up from the floor, cringing at the tingling piercing feeling that washed over his lower half as he stumbled towards the nearest cupboard. 

His limbs all shook as he scanned his belongings, he had an abundance of food, yet he reached for none of it. Screaming at him to grab something, anything, his stomach twisted and turned. The more it rioted, the more he hesitated.

“Nah-” the floor was once more fed with needless filth for bugs to consume. Kenny had barely managed to turn away before ridding himself of what little had resided within the depths of his stomach. May have resided? Never before had vomiting burnt this badly.

Again and again the man had attempted to satisfy his hunger, but each and every time he failed. Vomit was left to rot into his floor, marinating. He should have moved by now, he had stayed around for far too long. He should move on, the smell was making it impossible to eat, and Kenny didn't have the strength to kneel down to clean it up.

It hadn't taken long before he ceased these feeble attempts at feeding. He was starting to find comfort in the pain, the hunger was starting to feel safe and familiar, strengthening as it slowly ate at him, rid him of what he held above all things, his power.

As the world has eaten away his Uri.

He could no longer recognize the man who stared back at him from the reflection of his dusty mirror. Hollow and weak, never before had he looked hollow and weak. His cheeks had sunk, his eyes looked drained and empty, too heavy for their sockets. He could no longer recognize the man before him, a man who had felt the warm touch of love, Uri’s love, and regrettably let it slip out between his fingers.

He didn't look weak, he was weak. He had allowed the world to steal away the only good thing that had ever came to him unprompted. Uri had never a day in his life needed to be kind to Kenny, yet he had chosen to be. Despite how they met, despite Kenny’s crude behaviour, Uri remained smiling, telling him stories from his world, and allowing Kenny to be just who he was. Never once had Uri given him those ugly looks his grandfather had oftentimes tried to hide, never did Uri use Kenny's past against him, nor did he view him as a monster. If anything, the monster was perhaps the saint that had shown the man grace.

No, he was his light, his much needed light. Not a monster, not even one bit. Kenny was indeed the only monster between them, titan or not. “You up there? Uri? Up in the stars shinin’ down at me? Can you see me now, Uri? Look, I'm crying too.” 

The hunger felt good, the hunger felt deserved.

Perhaps this way he would meet him again?

The tears? They did nothing but burn.

Pain had become his friend, if the divine refused to punish him, he would take it into his own hands. Now satisfaction was found in the hunger, not in getting rid of it. Boredom was killed alongside the smoothness of his skin. A cold blade helped him forget, an empty stomach made him feel like he was finally able to repent, even if just a little bit. Finally, willing.

Months had passed since Uri's death when a heavy knock upon his door woke Kenny from a dream in which Uri's gentle hands had played with his hair as they rested in a large green field, their skin being kissed by the warm sun. Those all knowing eyes of his were so beautiful in the light. “What!?” Damn bothersome, he should have found another place to stay.

He hauled himself up on his feet, stumbling before he had even lifted his leg to take a step forth. Walking had grown to be a heavy task, one he no longer performed every day. He kept bottles in which he'd empty his bladder, what other reason would he have to get up anyway?

“I'm comin’ !” The knocks were growing more and more insistent. “Calm down!” One of these bottles made themselves an obstacle in his path, Kenny's whole body jolted as he tripped over the glass, watching as it fell over and began pouring its sorry insides back into the world. “Damn-” it smelled worse all out and about. 

From the moment his hand pushed down on the handle, hell was preparing to blow up in the old serial killer's face. Or perhaps more so, a gun. A weapon that as soon as the door opened had been turned with its hind towards him and slammed into his face. “Hey!-” before he had even managed to reach for his jaw, soothe the pain, a man had come to tackle Kenny straight to the ground.

Too weak to fight back properly, the boney man began tossing about underneath the man who's knee pressed so painfully down against his spine. The angry scream that erupted from the ripper's lungs vibrated through his chest and into the creaking wood floor. Vibrated like a fly’s buzzing within a glass jar, held tightly by a devil who's grin only grew wider the more it struggled.

Face down in piss and weeks old molded vomit, Kenny came to realize that perhaps this shit-crawler was him all along. Was cleaning perhaps, the bug, no ,Levi’s way of trying to build a distance them between, or worse! Levi’s own attempt at saving his foolish uncle from himself, just as Uri had.

The abuse didn't last. Upon realizing that there was little fight in Kenny, the man had gotten off, laughing at him before pulling him up from the ground and tossing him back onto the couch the man just stood from.

Kenny braced himself for whatever might come next, more abuse, or perhaps they'd gone rogue and would kill him, avenge their fallen comrades. Better yet, maybe they'd gotten the order to.

Legal assassins, the whole bunch.

Little did Kenny know that exactly that was the offer they were to put before him.

A license to kill.

“I don't drink this piss.” the man muttered, making the military personnel before him give him a look of disbelief before removing the cup he had offered the older man. Tea had never been Kenny's thing, the kid had liked it though, he wondered if he still did. Did he find the time? 

They kept chatting with him for what felt like hours, but Kenny had little interest in what they had to say. “You look like shit, get back into shape.” Rude, firstly. Secondly, even If he had wanted to, now he'd rather not out of spite. “I don't have the strength.” Kenny's voice rasped painfully out of his throat. “So how about you do me a favour, and kill yourself. I'll watch ."The MP's Didn't find it as amusing as he did, apparently. For as Kenny cracked a smile, the men's frowns only grew deeper.

And then they kept talking. And talking.. Well one of them did anyway, the other instead stood back, arms crossed over his chest.  Kenny could have gone to sleep, he wouldn't have felt like he was missing out on anything important. If he closed his eyes again, perhaps he'd find Uri once more. He was feeling drained, as If his life was finally running out.

He didn't want to die, not yet. No, he remembered now, there was something he had to do first.

“Where are you going!? Sit down!” a damn squeaky voiced man, Kenny caught himself wondering if hair ever grew on military cunts’ chests. The tall Ackerman hadn't even realized he had gotten up and started walking. 

Yeah, wouldn't they like to know?

No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps thanks to the weapon that finally was gripped confidently in his hand once more. No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps they didn't dare?

He would find him.

And when he did, that squealing piggy would find himself on Kenny's plate. He couldn't die yet, not before Rod. 

The world is cruel, perhaps none of this was Rod's fault, but that coward deserved it regardless.

“Come piggy, piggy, Piggy~”

[klaraslevi]

Ugh I love men

[storiesofaot]

Levihan is clearly having me in a loving chokehold lately, I can't help it. 😂 Also, that is definitely not how you do these videos, but that's the only way I know xD

Song: Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles ☀️

[achiepy]

[violet-fluff]

I love the spunk Levi seemed to have when he was younger in the underground. Just walking around like he owned the place with his sass and shiet like youngsters do. And then he seemed to really mellow out and turned into a zaddy as he got older. ❤️❤️❤️

[levihandynasty]

🩸Blood is Thicker Than Water (And Tea)🫖

Word Count:2613 Week 10 Prompt: A) Person A coming home to Person B covered in blood.

The underground, home to thieves, beggars and whores. A home to the deprived and the wanting. A world down below the rich and indulgent. Forgotten by those with the privilege to forget, and live. Down below, another day was never guaranteed, and walking these streets was a reason for fear, the reason one's eyes may close once and for all. The underground, home to Kenny The Ripper, returning from ‘’duty’’.

His footsteps were heavy, carrying his presence through the maze of streets that made the Underground City. A scent of blood followed him, mixing with the rotten stench of the land itself. A man would be stupid not to fear Kenny as he passed him by, but that did not mean that the tall man posed any danger to the average citizen. The blood on him painted a warning in bright red, telling those who were strangers to him that they'd best keep their distance, but the man was no stranger to making himself a temporary friend or two, in fact he was quite friendly with the ladies who often served him beer. Remaining by their side however, to his grandfather's great dismay, was something he didn't quite manage to do. Though perhaps even that man knew that it was best for Kenny to wander the world alone. Alone, besides of course, that one exception.

His ward, a child Kenny had taken in after a visit that had gone far from how he had hoped it would. A boy that in his own way had brightened Kenny’s life, a queer one, that kid. Kenny fondly recalled how clueless he had been about child care when he first got him. After their first meal out together, once Kenny had introduced him to his home, Levi as he boy was named, had completely ceased to drink, allowing himself to become dehydrated to the point Kenny was certain the frail being would pass away. And in his cluelessness Kenny had allowed it. He had, of course, considered making the child drink by force, but something about it didn't sit right with him. Though the idea never failed to make him chuckle.

Levi's salvation had come to him in the shape of Kenny’s forgetfulness. He had boiled himself a pot of water, intending to use the hot liquid for something that today slipped his memory completely. But exhaust had gotten the better of him, and it had delivered Kenny early to sleep that night. He was a light sleeper, so he had awoken as Levi started rummaging around, dragging a chair over to where the pot stood, the water now cold. Levi had filled himself a cup, and downed it faster than Kenny had managed to properly register what it was he was witnessing, but the message was received, and after dusting off an old Kettle, Kenny always kept it filled with boiled water, clean enough for the child to drink. An expensive affair, firewood considered; this was something Kuchel surely never could afford, but it was an expense Kenny was willing to put out, as long as it kept the kid alive.

As Kenny thought back to the small joys and challenges Levi had offered him, he had neglected to offer the land his attention, and he wouldn't have given it any thought if it had not been for the mention of his name from up ahead. A group of men, some younger than himself stood huddled together, sending him looks that he struggled to read. They did not move as he approached- unlike most men, they did not shy away as they realised his attention had fallen upon them. Instead they seemed excited by the idea that they were in his sight, and once more Kenny heard his name be spoken between them. A man his age, blonde and broad, had a laughter that came punching down on Kenny. And though he was not afraid, it had quickly become clear that these men had no good intentions. They had grouped up not far away from his home, and they were unmoving, despite that warning of red upon Kenny’s clothes. These men were unafraid, but their eyes told Kenny that they knew very well who he was, they knew he was not one to lose a fight, and here they had come looking for just that.

Or so he had thought. As Kenny made his evaluation of the situation, the group quickly dispersed. His hand, which had rested eagerly upon his blade, faltered as the men passed him by. That blonde man came awfully close to him, his shoulder nudging against Kenny’s as he took his leave. Had he not been somewhat weirded out by their behaviour, Kenny might have told them off, but instead he remained silent, his eyes following the group to make sure they remained civil. He enjoyed himself a fight, but this close to his home, he much more looked forward to his rest. So Kenny remained still, only now that they pushed past him, noticing the bloody stains that painted their clothes red.

“Hey kid” Kenny had thrown his hat aside as he stepped into the home he shared with the boy. “How's my favourite runt?” he teased as he moved to also remove his coat, throwing it over the back of an old creaking wooden chair. “Oi Levi” The boy had not replied to him, but there he stood, upon a stool with his back to Kenny. “Forgotten how to speak?” The boy remained unmoving, so Kenny stepped forth, his large hand reaching out for the boy's fragile shoulder. “You ignoring me, kid?” he had broken out a laugh just as he came in contact with the boy, but this laughter just as quickly died as he felt how the child trembled underneath his touch.“Boy!” Worry overcame the tall man as he spun the child around to face him.

“Don't touch me!” Levi's tiny fist had come flying straight at Kenny's face, punching him hard enough to push him away from him. Kenny had no room for anger, the man had not even had the time to think that thought before his eyes fell down on the child's face. The room grew silent about them, time feeling as if it stood still as the man took in the sight before him. The young child was covered in blood, his shirt drenched in the substance. And the boy continued to be soaked, as blood kept gushing from a gash upon the young kid's forehead. 

The first sound that returned to Kenny's ears was the sound of buzzing flies from somewhere within their home, and the second had been a whimper. Then a loud thud as the boy kicked away from the chair, his bony arms wrapping about Kennys neck as he threw himself at his guardian in a desperate attempt at seeking safety. Not knowing what else to do, Kenny embraced the trembling boy, instinctively beginning to rub his hand up and down the young boy's back, feeling how his spine hit against his fingers. He was fragile, like a doll.

As he held the boy, his eyes fell to the counter Levi had been standing by. A bowl laid tilted upon the surface, a container that once had held water now having spat it out onto old wood that would undoubtedly mold, that was of course if they assumed that the stench of mold that had plagued them wasn't already coming from that exact object. 

“I want my mom” Levi's words struck something in Kenny, leaving the man feeling as if his throat was on fire; this time, unlike those times when good booze found its way into his hands, was a kind of fire he detested, one that he had ran from for as long as he could recall. 

A broken wheeze escaped Kenny's dry lips as he bit his teeth together, shutting his jaw and silencing any other unwanted sound from escaping him. As with each breath he took, the fire grew stronger, and so did the trembling of the boy. The child, now crying against Kenny’s musty shirt.

The two of them remained still in each other's embrace until the fire had died and Kenny finally began moving again. His attention now aimed purely at the mess on the counter and what it could mean. It didn't take him long to get it either, despite the boy's odd way of being, he was easy to read. “Okay” with trembling hands Kenny put the boy back down on the chair and moved towards the kettle that held their drinking water. After the spill, that was all the water currently available to him. “How are ya gonna survive if you can't even-” now was not the time to barrate him, mugs were heavy, especially the large flagons Kenny kept their water in until it was deemed drink or wash. 

His knees creaked as he knelt down by the boy with the beautifully painted kettle in one hand, and a rag in the other. Lowering himself before the boy, Kenny soaked the rag before lifting it up towards Levi's face, watching as the young kid closed his eyes, bracing for the cold and the pain.

The air grew stiff as silence commenced once again, with the child unresponsive, Kenny had no reason to keep chatting. The boy was perhaps in need of the silence. Previously sitting completely stiff and straight in the chair, Levi’s demeanor slowly shifted, his head now weighing down on Kenny’s hand, his face still wet from the tears and blood which his guardian now gently washed away. The man's hand was big and rough, much different from- but with his eyes closed, the boy could at least pretend.

“There you go, Levi. All clean, let's get you to bed now.” her voice echoed through Levi's mind, a voice as soft as butter and filled with everything good in the world. Her hands so soft against his skin as she helped him get ready for bed; she often joked, hugging her boy close to herself as she silently whispered things that never failed to drag a chuckle out of his tiny lungs. With her, Levi had never felt small, scared, or fragile, but now without her, the world seemed way too vast, and the hand against him was rough and large, feeling as if it was touching him right by the bone. The world had eaten away Levi's strength and his bravery, his body too. The world was nothing but cruel, a monster that had come for them and left him alone in the care of this strange man. 

That day, Kenny left him. The man who had held him in such a familiar embrace had cleaned him off, and without a word had stood back up, turning his back to the child before calmly making his exit from their home.

Levi had been quick to his feet, attempting to follow the man before the door slammed shut after him. He knew Kenny thought little of those who couldn't protect themselves, he knew that Kenny must have looked at him with disapproving eyes as he cleaned him off. That comfort that Levi had felt, slowly washed away from him, escaping him as quickly as water seeped into cracked floorboards, vanishing only to never be seen again.

Or at least so the boy had thought, crumbling to the floor, the boy's breath caught in his throat and all he could let out was the shadow of a scream, a wheezy pained attempt at sharing his sorrows with the earth. And there on the floor, Levi had remained, falling asleep curled up about himself like some stray dog trying to keep warm.

There Levi remained until a familiar scent filled his nose, waking him from another nightmare. Kenny, with his white shirt now painted a filthy red, stood with his back turned to the child, keeping an eye on a pot of boiling water. Their dining table had been cleared off and set for a new meal. No, not a meal.

Levi pushed up from the floor and slowly made his way to a table that had been set with beautiful porcelain cups, similar to their pot, the cups were painted with flowers upon their small bodies. These were cups Levi had never seen before, but they brought with them a warm sense of familiarity, for they reminded him of her, of his dear mother.

“Sit down hm?” The two of them sat across from each other, a cup now made warm with tea in each of their grips. Levi had leant over his cup, taking in the scent. He had told Kenny about his evenings with his mother, but never had he told him what tea they enjoyed, for the child himself had not been aware of its name. Kenny however, had managed to pick one that smelled the exact same.

“They won't be coming back around here, kid” no, Levi had realised that much. Those men who had come by and delivered him that beating, they would not be going anywhere ever again. Kenny’s sore knuckles and bloody clothes were enough to tell that tale. Levi hadn’t had to tell his guardian a thing, but the problem had been solved regardless, had it not been for his now pounding headache, Levi might just have thanked him for the help.

The child again remained silent, waiting for his tea to cool down, but now he gave the other nods and shrugs in reply to whatever he had to say, no longer freezing him out of his world. It was only until the tea was cold enough to drink however, that Levi remained silent. Kenny had once mentioned that he had never tried this beverage himself, so when he lifted the cup up to his lips, Levi watched on with excitement. A groan soon escaped Kenny’s lips, though it was immediately made clear that the man had tried to keep his composure, only letting it go when he realised Levi had seen.

He looked at Levi as if the child had betrayed him, before he put the cup aside. “You don't want a beer instead, kid?” 

“I'll kill you-” replied Levi, receiving a hearty laugh from the man.

.

Now again Levi stood face to face with the man who had once been his guardian, this time a grown man instead of a young and feeble child. Once more, Levi had blood on his face, but this time it was not his own, rather it belonged to the man who sat before him.”You.. Who were you to my mother?” the blood on his face was allowed to remain, he knew that the other didn't have much time, and any time spent cleaning up would for once feel like time lost.

“You idiot” the man would always find an excuse to insult the boy, his pride and joy, his favourite runt- “Just her big brother” , his nephew.

Instinctively, Levi had wanted to slap that grin off the bastard's face, but he had one more question to ask. “That day, why did you leave me?” That day, they could have gone home together, had another chat over the drink that Kenny hated so, but kept drinking with the boy regardless.

A sorry excuse, followed by rejection was the last thing Levi ever got from his uncle, Kenny Ackerman. And the last act of kindness shown to this same man was Levi’s hands upon his face, holding the weight of his head in his palm as he used his cape to gently clean the blood off of the deceased man’s face.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

thinking about kid!levi having to teach himself the undercut because we all know kenny ain’t gonna do it

[marcobodtlives]

My Favourite Bad AI Image Expansions of Levi:

[betulinia]

Senkai Cosplay Studio

Young and Beautiful

Lana del Rey

I've seen the world, done it all, had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, and Bel Air now

Hot summer nights, mid-July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven

Please let me bring my man

When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in

Father, tell me if you can

All that grace, all that body

All that face makes me wanna party

He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

[grapestones]

Jiang Cheng is honestly never gonna wash off his uncleness. Every time I want to pair him up with someone with a bit of an age gap, he always ends up being the older one taking care of the other. The younger always gets a crush first. It is my design.

[marsconer]

attack on titan character as unreal unearth part one

de selby part 1 — eren yeager

‎de selby part 2 — eren yeager

‎first time — levi ackerman

‎francesca — ymir frizt

‎i, carrion ( icarian ) — hange zoe

‎eat your young — marleyan warriors

‎damage gets done — niccolo & sasha

who we are — zeke yeager

all things end — mikasa ackerman

to someone from a warmer climate — annie leonhardt

[emjiroki]

Just got a thought....

Men in those 80s crop tops

Looking like a bunch of hoes and KNOWING WE CANT TEAR OUR EYES AWAY

-Gojo, Katsuki, Draken, Yuuji, Yuuta, Izuku, Levi +any of your faves that look FINE in those hoochie man shirts

[kobutareads1]

Young Recruits by jokocraft

Canonverse. Canon divergent. 3 chapters. Eruri. A young soldier, Erwin, arrests and trains a young thief, Levi.

A refreshing look at Erwin and Levi's relationship. They're both fairly young (early 20's) and not war weary or hardened. One of my favorite lines in Eruridom comes from this fic, where Erwin tells Levi, "I see you as the only person I will regret leaving behind when I die.”

[joemama-2]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 & 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

・❥・ pairing: veteran! levi x fem reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: known as ‘marley’s darling’, your father, a high-ranking marleyan diplomat, introduced you as his pride and joy since you were out the womb. dazzling smiles, coy and subtly flirtatious remarks, an innocent but seductive allure that keeps you in the eyes of the public. with concerns for your safety, your father hires levi ackerman as your personal bodyguard, a war hero to some, a warm criminal to others. the same man who fought against your people.

・❥・ wc: 9k

・❥・ tags/warnings: age gap, levi is in his late thirties, reader is 26, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol, drugs, war veteran! levi, reader takes inspo from marilyn monroe, mentions of ptsd, depression, death, post! war, prejudice, guns, knives, violence, reader is marleyan, slow burn, sorta opposites attract?, dark themes, cussing, gross men, no titans! modern au, may have some canon divergent elements (e.g. levi has both legs still lol)

・❥・ series masterlist < next chapter

The sound of gravel cracks underneath Levi’s shoes, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. It’s a sunny day in Eldia, he’s almost begun to miss this place. It’s much more different than Marley, not that he’s complaining. He’s only been here for three days, yesterday was his last. For some reason, he’s dreading the plane back. A sigh escapes his lips, shaking his head at the melancholic intrusions. He stops in his tracks when he hears a tiny hurdle of giggles and whispers. Looking over his shoulder is a small group of children around the age of five or six, looking up at him with wide, starry eyes. He can see the way their gaze flickers across his features, going from the long scar across his face to the ghostly, white eyeball of his. Some hold their smiles back, while others gasp in child-like delight. 

He turns to face them fully, crouching down to the children’s height. 

“H-Hi…” a timid girl greets. “Are you—”

“You’re Mr. Levi!” a much more brave young boy blurts out, his toothy grin widening. “You look cooler than the books!”

Levi’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at the boy’s enthusiasm, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He straightens up, towering over them once again, though his gaze softens as he studies the children.

"Mr. Levi, right?" the timid girl asks again, her voice barely a whisper.

Levi’s heart skips a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth flooding him as he nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The children seem to surge forward as if they’ve all had the same unspoken idea, their eyes practically glowing with excitement. The boy in front pulls out a little notebook and a small pen from his pocket. “Can you sign it? Can you sign it for us?!” His voice is filled with such an innocent eagerness that for a moment, Levi just stares at the child, a little taken aback.

“You want my autograph?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s not sure what to make of this situation.

The children nod eagerly, the timid girl now clutching a scrap of paper between her tiny hands. Levi takes the paper from her, glancing over it for a brief moment before scribbling his name, his signature jagged and rough, just like everything else about him. “Here,” he hands it back to her, the girl’s eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Levi!” she squeaks, bouncing on her heels. “You're our hero!”

Levi straightens up again, his hand returning to his coat pocket as he glances over the group. They stare at him for a while, their eyes filled with admiration, something he hasn't seen in a long time. But it’s not the kind of admiration he’s used to—it's pure, innocent, almost reverent. He can feel the weight of their gaze, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother him. “Well, I’m not really a hero,” Levi mutters, running a hand through his hair. “But thanks.” He turns his gaze away from them, feeling that odd discomfort creeping in. “You kids should get back to playing, yeah?”

The children nod excitedly, and as the last few gremlins get their signature, they scurry away. 

He shakes his head in a slight fondness, turning back around to continue his trek back to the private plane waiting for him. Seems being a veteran has pretty good perks, if he does say so himself. The hangar isn’t too far away, luckily. He’s already had his morning cup of tea from the shop he used to always frequent before moving, same owners, same tacky furniture—nothing could get better than that. 

He can see a few men in the distance, seemingly getting his plane ready. 

Levi continues to walk toward the hangar, his mind begins to wander. The children’s bright smiles and excited whispers echo in his head, their innocent admiration stirring something within him. He hadn’t been called a hero in years. Most people only saw the scarred, battle-worn soldier who had fought for survival. The idea of being a symbol of hope to anyone was something he'd long abandoned. But there they were—those little faces full of wonder, looking at him like he was more than just a man who’d lived through hell. His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head. Maybe it was just the way they were raised, seeing heroes in simple things, not yet tainted by the harshness of reality.

As he gets closer to the plane, one of the men spots him and waves. “Mr. Ackerman!” the man calls out. “Everything’s ready for your departure. We’ve got a clear flight ahead.”

Levi nods, not in the mood for small talk but acknowledging the man’s efforts. He’s almost there—almost back to the place he’s tried to forget sometimes. Marley. He tenses at the thought. There’s nothing left for him here in Eldia—not really. The place is a relic of the past, and he's nothing more than a passing memory of a world that no longer exists. Besides, he has two other little rascals waiting for him back in Marley.

He stops just short of the plane, eyes narrowing as the men finish their preparations. The sound of metal clanging and the hum of engines fill the air, but his thoughts are elsewhere. It feels like a strange kind of irony, returning to Marley, where the tension between Eldia and Marley still simmers just beneath the surface, a conflict that’s far from over. But it’s not his fight anymore. Of course, things probably will never be the same, considering just how many lives were taken in the war. A war spanning over nine years that only ended five years ago.

As the men begin to board the plane, Levi lingers, staring out at the horizon. He can almost see the faint outline of the place he left behind. His throat tightens. He’d been a different man then, a soldier with a cause. Now, he was just trying to survive, trying to forget. Humanity’s strongest.

He pushes the thoughts aside, stepping onto the plane as the door closes behind him. The world outside becomes a blur as the engines roar to life. His seat is cold and uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care about comfort. He’d long ago learned how to endure, how to keep moving forward. He settles back in the comfy chair the plane has to offer, opening the glass of whiskey that’s already been placed out on the table for him.

Giving himself a pour, he brings the rim to his lips and sips. A small hum of satisfaction sounds from him. 

“Drinkin’ already?”

Levi stiffens, lips contorting into a hard-set frown. Kenny, uncaring of his niece’s animosity towards him, sits leisurely across from him. He takes his hat off and leans back with a relaxed sigh, lifting his legs onto the table between them and crossing his arms over his chest. “The hell are you doing here?” 

Kenny scoffs. “Spending time with you, obviously.”

“I’d rather eat shit than be in your presence,” Levi gruffs back, eyes narrowing at his uncle. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a solo trip.”

“Was,” Kenny corrects. “Besides, got some business on the other side. Figured I’d hop a ride with you.”

Levi’s fingers tighten around his glass, the amber liquid swirling inside as his gaze locks onto Kenny, who seems entirely unfazed by the hostility radiating off Levi. The man across from him is annoyingly at ease, as always. A smirk dances across his uncle’s lips, a little too self-assured for Levi’s liking.

“Business?” Levi repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. “What kind of business? Last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a legitimate operation.”

Kenny’s eyes twinkle as if he’s relishing in the tension between them. He leans forward, and the casualness of the movement only serves to irritate Levi more. “You’re not the only one who can make deals, kid,” he drawls, the condescending tone sharp enough to cut through the stale air between them. “We’ve got some... mutual interests. Thought I’d tag along, see if you might actually get your hands dirty for once.”

Levi scowls but doesn’t respond immediately. He takes another sip of his drink, trying to swallow down the wave of frustration building in his chest. The last thing he wants is to be involved in any scheme that Kenny’s tangled up in. But, as always, Kenny knows exactly how to push his buttons, and Levi knew better than to think he’d be able to escape this.

“Not interested,” Levi mutters, leaning back in his seat, eyes flicking toward the window, though his mind is far from the view outside. “I’m not here for a job, nothing else. Keep your shady dealings to yourself.”

Kenny chuckles, the sound a low rumble that seems to settle uneasily in Levi’s stomach. “Right, forgot you’re Mr. High ‘n Mighty now. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You’re a fool. An old fool.” He scoots the whiskey bottle closer when he sees Kenny reaching for it.

“Oh, give me a break,” Kenny rolls his eyes, reaching forward and taking the bottle from his niece’s grip. He uncaps it and nonchalantly sips straight from the bottle. Levi doesn’t bother holding back the disgusted noise that leaves his throat, but says nothing and focuses his attention on the window as the plane begins to take off.

For a second, there’s silence. 

Until Kenny opens his big mouth again. 

“So…really not interested, huh?”

“No.”

“How come? Ain’t that compensated money the government lends ‘ya not that much? How the hell you even survivin’?” 

Levi’s gaze sharpens at Kenny’s words, his grip tightening on the armrest. He didn’t need to explain himself, especially not to someone like Kenny. The audacity of the man still gets under his skin, even after all these years. But Levi knows better than to take the bait. “I'm surviving fine,” Levi mutters, his voice cold and clipped. He turns his head slightly, eyeing his uncle with a glare that would freeze most men in place, but Kenny only grins wider, clearly enjoying the discomfort Levi tries so hard to hide. “I have my shop, I don’t want blood money.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I mean, the way I see it, you ain’t exactly living large," Kenny says, tapping the neck of the bottle against his leg like a rhythm he’s got memorized. "Could use a little extra padding, if you catch my drift."

Levi huffs under his breath, a dry laugh escaping him. "I'm fine," he repeats, louder this time, not bothering to explain any further. The question, though, lingers in the back of his mind: how much longer can he keep doing this? How much longer can he stay out of the kind of deals Kenny’s offering?

Kenny’s eyes narrow, sizing him up, and for a moment, Levi feels the weight of his uncle’s scrutiny. The man knows Levi better than he lets on—knows his breaking points, knows what makes him tick. And that only makes Levi more defensive. The older man lets up a bit, sighing to himself and grumbling something Levi can’t quite make out. He removes his legs from the table, facing Levi head-on. “Listen, it’s not…that bloody, alright?”

“Sure,” Levi simply says, checking his watch. Two more hours to go. Dammit. 

“It ain’t,” Kenny reaffirms, scooting toward the edge of his seat. He subtly looks around, as if afraid the small crew of the plane might be listening. “Just a tiny gig. Could help you out.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you no, old man?”

“As if you’re not gettin’ there your damn self, you little brat,” Kenny spits out. He huffs, taking out a crumpled-up sheet of newspaper from his back pocket and flattening it out onto the table. 

Levi peers down, face indifferent. A few moments of silence pass with Levi expecting some sort of explanation. When none comes, he unfortunately takes the bait. “What?”

“See here,” Kenny taps a long finger onto the paper. “A…client of mine, you could say. Mr. Makoto Suzuki. Topshot back over there, heard of ‘im?”

Levi’s eyes flicker down to the paper, his stomach sinking at the mention of the name. He doesn’t want to show any sign of recognition, but he can feel the subtle tension rising in his chest. Makoto Suzuki. The name isn’t foreign to him, but it’s a name that brings too many memories—too many connections to things he’s tried to forget. Levi’s lips tighten into a thin line, but he says nothing, his gaze flickering back to the newspaper. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Levi mutters. He’s been around long enough to know that the big players in the game—men like Makoto—always find their way into the darker corners of the world. “Anyone with a brain has.”

“Correct,” Kenny grins, his gold canine on display. “Well, Mr. Suzuki here has a very special package he holds oh so dear to his heart.” Kenny’s finger moves slightly over to the right, and Levi’s eyes follow. A young girl, maybe in her twenties. Smiling at the camera, displaying her pearly whites. Levi can make out the group that must’ve been hurdled around you and your father while the picture was taken. Makoto’s arm is around your waist in what appears to be a protective way. “His fine piece of a daughter.”

“Makoto’s daughter,” Levi says, the words coming out gruffly, like he’s testing the air. Of course, he knows who you and your father are. “Why are you showing me this?”

Kenny leans back, eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t decipher. He takes a moment, savoring the tension in the air before answering, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Because her father’s paying a pretty penny to keep her pretty. Been buggin’ me about it for a while now, but I ain’t no babysitter.”

“Neither am I,” Levi scoffs, setting his glass down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking anything, especially from people like them.”

Kenny’s eyes flicker with an almost predatory gleam as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near hiss. “You know how things work, Levi. Money talks. And Mr. Suzuki's got plenty of it. He's desperate. His daughter’s a political asset, no different than a pawn on a chessboard. But she’s got a problem—she’s too... distracting, if you catch my drift. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll see the opportunity here.”

Levi shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he stares at the picture, your smiling face glaring back at him. The thought of being involved in any situation with Makoto Suzuki’s daughter—especially in the way Kenny’s implying—turns his stomach. He’s fought his entire life to distance himself from this kind of world, from men like Makoto, who wield their power like a weapon and treat their own flesh and blood like assets. He snorts, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’m not a damn babysitter, Kenny. And I sure as hell don’t get mixed up in that kind of business. I’m a civilian now, it’s staying that way.”

Kenny’s grin widens, as if he’s been waiting for this exact response. He leans back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. “That’s the problem, Levi,” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “You think you can just walk away from all of this. You think you’re done. But the world doesn’t work that way, not for people like you. You don’t just get to put your hands up and say, ‘I’m done,’ because someone like Suzuki? He doesn’t give a damn about your past. He sees what you can do, and he’ll make sure you know it.”

Levi’s eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s heard it before, the way people try to pull him back into the chaos. He’s been fighting it for years, but it’s always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. “I don’t give a damn what Suzuki thinks,” Levi mutters, his voice cold as steel. “You know what kind of man I am. I’m not some hired weapon anymore. I’m happy where I’m at now.”

Kenny laughs, a low, rasping sound that seems to crawl under Levi’s skin. “And yet, here we are, aren’t we? You’re still the same guy, Levi. You’re just pretending not to be. When the world’s out to get you, you can’t just sit on your hands and pray it’ll go away. You’ll need allies, whether you want ‘em or not.”

Levi clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wants to reach across the table and throttle Kenny, but he knows that wouldn’t change a damn thing. The man’s words ring too true. The world doesn’t let people like him go so easily. It’s a cold, unforgiving reality. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze still locked on the picture of you and your father. The idea of getting involved with Makoto Suzuki’s business makes his skin crawl. He’s been there and done that—used as a tool in someone else’s game. He refuses to go back.

“I’m not your guy for this,” Levi says, his voice unwavering, but the unease in his chest grows. “Find someone else to play your damn games.”

Kenny groans and rolls his eyes. “Stubborn lil’ thing, huh? It’s extra cash, Levi.”

“Does it look like I care?” Levi cooly replies. “I’m not doing it. He can get a clean Marleyan to do it.”

“What? Ya think that’s it? He won’t let you watch his daughter ‘cause you ain’t Marleyan?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? What smart man would employ someone who fought against his country to be up close and personal with his daughter? We’re still a devil to some, remember?”

Kenny leans forward again, his eyes gleaming with something Levi can’t quite place. The older man seems almost amused by Levi’s firm resistance, as if he’s testing a limit he already knows well. He taps the table once more, the sound cutting through the tension like a ticking clock. “You’re a real piece of work, Levi,” Kenny mutters with a smirk. “But you’re forgetting something. Mr. Suzuki’s desperate. And desperation… well, it makes people do things they wouldn’t usually consider. And in this case, what he’s offerin’ isn’t just money—it’s leverage.”

Levi freezes at the word "leverage." The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as his gaze snaps up to meet his uncle’s, suspicion and anxiety coiling tightly in his chest. “Leverage?” Levi repeats, voice low, barely above a whisper. He knows too well what that means—Kenny’s not talking about a job offer anymore. This is something bigger, darker.

Kenny’s grin widens, but it’s not a pleasant smile. It’s the grin of someone who knows exactly how to pull the strings. He leans in, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You ain’t gotta choose the game, Levi. You’re already in it. Suzuki’s got dirt. Big dirt. And if you don’t play nice, that dirt’s gonna find its way to your doorstep, sooner or later.”

Levi’s heart races as he absorbs the weight of Kenny’s words. He can feel the familiar weight of the past creeping back in, like a shadow he can’t shake. He’s fought so hard to stay out of this world—this world of manipulation, of dangerous men who make deals and break lives without a second thought. But it’s all starting to feel inescapable. “You’re saying if I don’t help him, he’ll use whatever he’s got on me against me?” Levi’s voice is steady, but there’s a tightness in his chest that betrays his growing unease. He feels like he’s already caught in the web—he’s just waiting for the final tug.

Kenny nods slowly, that sinister glint in his eye never leaving. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s already been planting the chip in my damn ear about you. And you know better than anyone—someone like Suzuki? He don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. You’re useful to him, Levi. You’ve always been useful. And now, you’re gonna be useful to his daughter.”

Levi’s fingers twitch involuntarily, a dark, suffocating feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He wants to scream, to smash the table between them, but he stays silent. His mind races, searching for any escape, any way out of this mess. “You can’t make me do this,” Levi says, his words low but firm. “I’m not going back. I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn.”

Kenny leans back in his seat, clicking his tongue. “You’re already a pawn, Levi. You just haven’t realized it yet. You’re surrounded by players who know how to move the pieces. You just happen to be the one they’re comin’ for.”

Levi feels his throat tighten, the cold reality of Kenny’s words hitting harder than he wants to admit. He’s trapped. No matter how far he tries to run, no matter how much he wants to be out of it, the world he’s left behind has a way of finding him. And now, it’s threatening to drag him back in. He scrubs a hand down his face.

“Think about it,” Kenny continues, his voice almost soothing, as if he’s offering advice. “You ain’t have to do much. Just keep an eye on Suzuki’s little girl. Protect her. Get a few hands dirty, but nothing that’ll land ‘ya in trouble. Think about the money. Think about what you can do with that money. Think about the doors it could open.”

Levi looks down at the picture again, at your smile, at the image of a life he knows he doesn’t belong in. But he knows his uncle is right about one thing—the world doesn’t let people like him go that easily. And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as simple as walking away. The weight of the decision presses down on him like a lead weight. He wants to punch something, to refuse, to get off this plane, never look back and stay his sorry ass in Eldia. But the words get stuck in his throat.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Kenny asks, voice heavy with expectation.

Levi doesn’t respond right away. He stares out the window, the soft hum of the plane filling his ears, as the choice looms over him like a storm waiting to break.

The second the plane has landed and the door opens, he’s striding down the ramp. Mood soured and the whiskey does nothing but make him more adept to just how much of a damn headache his forsaken uncle. Two figures in the distance momentarily ease his grumpiness. They familiarly approach him. 

“Levi! How was it?” Gabi asks first, striding forward to give him a tight hug around his waist. 

“Careful,” he murmurs, though his hand pats lightly at her back. “Nothing interesting. What about you two? Held up well?”

“Sure did,” Falco responds, smiling. “Shop’s doing fine, no hiccups.”

Levi nods and hums in approval. Gabi removes her arms from him, just about to ask another question when Kenny’s scratchy voice breaks the atmosphere. “Oh, look at that. Forgot about these two monsters.” He approaches with a crooked smile, head tilting and leaning against Levi. “Huh, you both are smaller than I re—”

“Shut up,” Levi cuts him off, shrugging him off. “And don’t talk to them.”

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist,” he says, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “Just makin’ conversation.”

Levi ignores him, glancing back at Gabi and Falco, who exchange wary looks before Gabi’s nose wrinkles in annoyance. “Who’s this old man?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Just an annoying bastard,” Levi mutters.

Kenny smirks. “You wound me, shorty.”

Levi clicks his tongue, already regretting letting Kenny tag along. “You’re not staying long, are you?”

Kenny grins, all teeth and trouble. “Nah, just for a drink or two. Maybe I’ll even stop by the shop, see what kinda scam you’re runnin’.”

Levi’s eye twitches, but Falco steps in before the argument escalates. “We should head back. You look tired, Levi.”

He is tired—tired of this, of the headache that is Kenny, of the weight pressing on his shoulders. He casts one last glance at the man before exhaling sharply. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Kenny just chuckles, watching as the trio walks ahead, hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. He follows at a distance, whistling a tune that grates on Levi’s ears. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you bring us anything back, Levi?” Gabi asks, looking up at him. 

Levi exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Tch. What do I look like, Santa?”

Gabi pouts, nudging his side. “Come on, not even a little souvenir?”

Falco chuckles. “I told you he wouldn’t.”

Levi rolls his eyes, but after a brief pause, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. He tosses it to Gabi, who catches it with a surprised blink.

Her face lights up. “Wait—you actually got me something?”

“Just open it,” Levi grumbles, ignoring the way Kenny is still whistling behind them.

Gabi rips the paper off, revealing a sleek pocketknife with an intricate engraving on the handle. She whistles, running her fingers over it. “This is so cool!”

Falco’s eyes widen. “A-A knife, Levi? Really?”

“She’s gotta learn how to defend herself,” Levi mutters. “Can’t have her relying on you all the time.”

Gabi grins, flipping the blade open and inspecting it. “I love it. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi shrugs, glancing at Falco. “And for you.” He reaches into his coat again and hands over a small box.

Falco hesitates before taking it, opening it carefully. Inside is a simple but finely crafted wristwatch. He blinks, then looks up at Levi, eyes wide. “This is… really nice.”

“Better than being late all the damn time,” Levi says, side-eyeing him.

Falco rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “I guess I deserve that.”

Kenny lets out an exaggerated sigh behind them. “Damn, no gift for your dear ol’ uncle? That hurts, Levi.”

Levi doesn’t even turn around. “Your gift is me not punching you in the face.”

Kenny cackles, and Gabi snorts as she tucks her knife into her pocket. Falco just shakes his head, slipping the watch onto his wrist. Despite his exhaustion, Levi feels the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. The walk to the tea shop only takes about ten minutes. Falco takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, allowing the group to step in. Kenny looks around, nodding slowly with a small whistle. “Cozy in here.”

Levi glances around, already feeling a sense of peace settle in the small, warmly lit space. The gentle scent of freshly brewed tea fills the air, mixing with the earthy tones of wood and herbs. The walls are lined with shelves of tea jars, some familiar, others he hasn’t seen before. A few potted plants sit near the windows, softening the atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Falco says, setting his bag down behind the counter and turning to face the group. “We’ve been getting a lot more regulars lately. Gabi’s been keeping things running smoothly.”

Gabi grins proudly, twirling a strand of her hair. “What can I say? I’ve got skills.” She gestures to the chairs by the window. “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll brew some fresh tea for you.”

“Not a tea kinda man,” Kenny waves her off. 

“I meant Levi,” she raises a brow, looking Kenny up and down before going back around the counter. Falco follows her. His eye twitches, huffing to himself and turning to see Levi sitting in one of the open chairs with a small grunt. “Damn kid’s a smart-ass.”

“Good thing she is.”

Kenny sits beside Levi, tapping his foot against the floor. “Alright, about the—”

“Not here,” Levi is quick to shut him down, sending the older man a certain look. “Hold on.” Gabi comes back with Levi’s desired tea, along with Falco setting down a small report of how things have been since he’s been gone. Levi nods and thanks them quietly, sipping the tea. “You two, head outside for a second.”

Gabi and Falco simultaneously tilt their heads in confusion. But Falco speaks up first. “What? But we haven’t even had time to—”

“Outside.”

Gabi opens her mouth to protest, but Falco quickly cuts in with a muttered, “We’ll be outside,” before she can say anything more. The two exchange a glance, clearly confused, but they gather their things without further questioning. Gabi gives Levi an uncertain look before following Falco out the door.

Levi waits until the door shuts behind them before turning his attention back to Kenny. The air between them tightens instantly, the tension thickening as Levi sets his tea down on the table with a soft clink. He hesitates for a few seconds, unsure if he should entertain his idiotic uncle. But he has a feeling that no matter what, he’ll be a thorn in his side. “How much?”

Kenny grins. “Confidential, of course. Until you accept the job.”

Levi’s gaze hardens. “I’m not a fucking bodyguard, Kenny. I’m not some hired muscle, and I’m definitely not interested in babysitting some spoiled brat—no offense to her, but that’s not my scene.”

Kenny’s eyes gleam with amusement, the kind that makes Levi this much closer to punching him in the face. “That’s exactly why they need you. You’re not the kind of guy who takes orders, and that’s what she needs. Someone who can think for himself, who won’t just bow to her family’s whims. You know how it is in that world, Levi. People like her, they’re walking targets.”

Levi’s eyes flicker briefly to the door, as though expecting the others to walk back in, but the room is still empty. He rubs his temple, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And what makes you think I’d give a damn about protecting some rich girl? I’m not in the business of charity, especially not for people like her.”

Kenny leans forward, his voice lowering, almost coaxing. “You’re in the business of keeping your head above water, right? Getting by. This job? It’s a chance for you to cash in. You’re good at what you do, and I think you’ll find this… lucrative. Plus, you know it’s not asking for much. Just a little loyalty to the Suzuki family.”

Levi’s fingers twitch, the temptation gnawing at him. He’s always been a pragmatist, and this… this could solve a lot of problems, not just for him but for the people he cares about. But Kenny knows that too. “You’re asking for too much.” Levi finally meets his uncle’s gaze, his voice sharp, but controlled. “And you know I don’t work on other people’s terms.”

Kenny’s smile falters for a split second, but then he leans back again, his expression returning to that smug, confident air. “You’re still thinking like the old Levi. You’ve got a chance here to step up and make a real name for yourself besides ‘the strongest.’ You don’t have to play by their rules, you just need to keep her alive and out of trouble. It’s not that hard.”

However, Levi is still finding it hard to just give in so easily. He’s never been a bodyguard, but is being a soldier that much different? Just protect, right? However, he remembers your father; how couldn’t he? The little meeting that was held after the bomb Eldia dropped on Marley that led to a cease fire not too long after. He remembers the way he regarded him and his peers with concealed mirth in his eyes, clenched hands that made it known how much he despised losing and coming to terms with ‘the devils’. He hadn’t trusted him then, and he doesn’t trust him now. So why the hell is this same man trying to employ him?

He’s never met you, of course. Levi isn’t much to delve into media or the higher-ups. Just simple bits of you here and there is what Levi is accustomed to. All he knows about you is what he’s seen in passing—brief news clips, vague mentions, a face in the crowd of the powerful, the kind of people he’d rather ignore. He doesn’t pay attention to the higher-ups or the media, and certainly not to the rich and pampered. That’s always been a world Levi keeps his distance from.

Kenny, sensing his niece’s hesitance, softens up just a tiny bit. “Listen, why don’t you come with me tonight? Supposed to be meetin’ up with the man himself at some club; maybe you can get a feel of him there?”

Levi’s expression hardens, and he mutters under his breath, “I’ve never trusted him.”

Kenny, watching him carefully, seems to understand the unspoken question. “I get it. You’ve got a history with that man, and I can’t blame you for that. But this isn’t about him, kid. It’s about you—your future. You could save up for yourself and find a better place than some shitty, one bed apartment. If you stick to what you know, you’ll always be stuck in the past.”

Levi looks up, meeting Kenny’s eyes. There’s no warmth in his stare, only cold calculation. “What’s the catch, Kenny? You want me to babysit a rich girl to what? To get closer to him?”

Kenny holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing like that, Levi. I told you, this is about keeping her alive. That’s all. The rest will follow. But you’ve gotta see it for yourself. You think you can read people? Come with me tonight. We’re meeting with your old friend at a club, and you can get a feel for the man.”

Levi’s gaze flickers toward the window, the streets outside bustling with life, and the idea of stepping into that world, even for a moment, gnaws at him. He’s been out of that circle for a long time—he doesn’t want to dive back into it. He enjoys his civilian life. But Kenny’s offer is tempting. Too tempting. He could get a sense of what was really going on and see if it was worth his time or if it was just another trap. Levi stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He doesn’t say anything at first, his back to Kenny as he pulls his coat tighter around his frame. The weight of the decision is pressing down on him, but he knows that if he turns Kenny down now, the man won’t stop. He’s relentless.

“Fine,” Levi says, his voice steady. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to walk away from this thinking it’s anything more than a job. And I’m not playing nice.”

Kenny’s grin returns, more satisfied now as he stands. “That’s all I’m asking, Levi. Just keep your head straight. We’re in for a long game here, and you’ve got a front-row seat.”

Levi doesn’t respond. He understands he’s walking into unknown territory, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for it. But one thing is for sure—he’s going to find out what kind of man your father really is. And if he’s going to protect you, he’ll need to know exactly what—or who he’s up against.

A high-end gentlemen’s club was not what he was expecting. Tucked behind an unsuspecting bar, the neon blue cursive letters that spell out “The Silk Rose”. They flicker softly in the darkness of the not-so-early night, casting an almost dreamy-like glow onto the concrete below. The street outside is quiet, unassuming—nothing to hint at the kind of opulence that lies within. Levi eyes the sign, then glances at Kenny with mild irritation.

“This your idea of a professional meeting?” he mutters.

Kenny just smirks, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “You’d be surprised how much business gets done between overpriced scotch and soft lighting. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “Suzuki likes a certain… ambiance.”

Levi scoffs, and the scowl on his face deepens. Still, he follows Kenny inside, the brute bouncer at the door giving them a once-over before stepping aside wordlessly.

Inside, the contrast is immediate. Velvet-draped walls, soft jazz humming low over the speakers, and golden chandeliers that twinkle like stars overhead. It smells like expensive perfume and power. The kind of place meant to impress men who’ve forgotten what it’s like to hear the word no.

Women in silk dresses that barely pass for clothing drift across the room like ghosts, each movement precise, curated. But the staff aren’t the only ones dressed to kill. Men in tailored suits lounge in leather booths, cigars in hand, speaking in hushed tones. This is a playground for the elite, the dangerous, and the untouchable. Hushed conversations, soft laughs, teasing touches shared between those around aren’t what makes Levi’s nose crinkle with distaste. It’s the look in the men’s eyes that does. The way they eye every woman as if they are a toy to be played with—as if they’re the prey. No doubt the women here have caught on to the predatory nature the men wordlessly exude, yet they’re still here. In a sense, it almost begins to remind him of his mother.

Though he’d like to think she had at least a little more self-respect. 

Kenny leads him toward a private room upstars and in the back, past thick velvet curtains. “Suzuki’s already here. Try not to look like you’re gonna kill someone.”

Levi’s jaw ticks. “No promises.”

Two tall men are standing, dressed in all black suits, on either side of the velvet red curtains that separate the wolves from their leader. The one on the right steps up, chest puffed out. He eyes both Kenny and Levi before speaking. “This area’s blocked off. Head back down.”

Kenny doesn’t break stride. He simply reaches into his coat, flashing something—an emblem, a card, maybe even just the weight of his name. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make the guard hesitate.

“He’s expecting us,” Kenny says, voice smooth but with an edge that suggests he’s not in the mood to repeat himself. “Now step aside.”

The guard’s jaw tightens, and he glances toward the other man, who gives a small nod. With a reluctant sigh, the first one steps back, tugging the curtain aside.

Kenny winks at him on the way in. “Atta boy.”

Levi follows his uncle, his boots nearly silent against the plush carpet. His eyes flicker over the details of the room like a sniper zeroing in. He can feel it—every inch of this place is designed to disarm, to distract. And yet, his guard is higher than ever. The private room is dimly lit, the atmosphere intimate, suffocating. A low table sits in the center, encircled by deep sapphire couches that seem to swallow anyone who sits in them. The scent of aged whiskey, cigar smoke, and some cloying cologne hits his nose instantly.

And there he is.

Makoto Suzuki sits like a man who’s owned the room since birth, legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch. His suit is dark navy, custom, his tie just loose enough to suggest control disguised as ease. His grey hair is styled neatly back, and his auburn eyes are trained on the swirling dark liquid in his glass. There's a woman perched next to him, draped across the couch more like decoration than companion. She doesn't even look up. There’s four more of his henchmen standing beside the couch, two more seated at the tiny table in the corner engaged in a small game of cards. 

At their arrival, they all look up. 

Makoto’s gaze lifts slowly, and when it lands on Levi, something in it shifts. Calculating. Amused. Maybe even mildly impressed. He doesn’t stand, of course. Men like him don’t need to.

“Kenny,” he greets smoothly, lifting his glass in a faux toast. “And the infamous Levi Ackerman.” His voice is like smoke—polished, poisonous. ​​Makoto gestures toward the open couch across from him, entirely unfazed by the cold stare he's receiving. “You’re taller than I remember.”

Levi doesn’t blink or sit. “You’re exactly how I remember.”

Kenny stifles a chuckle, plopping himself down on the couch and pouring himself a drink. “Let’s keep it civil, boys.”

Makoto lets the jab roll off him like mist off marble. He leans forward slightly, that same damned calm expression etched across his face. “So, Kenny, how’ve you been?”

Kenny exhales like he’s just settled into his favorite recliner, legs spread, glass already swirling in his hand. “Busy. Making deals. Babysitting this one,” he jerks a thumb toward Levi without looking at him. “Same old.”

Makoto’s smile twitches—just enough to acknowledge the remark without really responding to it. His attention, however, doesn’t drift far from Levi. The kind of look a lion gives a stray dog: amused, but watchful. “And yet, you dragged him here. Which means he knows he’s not just here for the ambiance.”

Levi still hasn’t sat. He doesn’t intend to—not yet. The air in this room is thick with the kind of arrogance that turns his stomach. This man, this entire place, reeks of money and power layered like cologne over something rotting beneath.

Kenny, unbothered, tops off his glass and throws back a sip before answering. “Told you I’d find you someone. Someone you could trust to keep your girl safe.”

Makoto’s brow lifts, gaze sharpening. “My daughter is not some damsel in distress.”

Levi’s voice cut in, low and steady, “Then why does she need a bodyguard?”

Makoto’s eyes narrow just slightly. Not insulted—curious. Testing him. “Not many people speak to me like that, Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi doesn’t flinch. “Not many people interest me enough to bother speaking to at all.”

There’s a long pause, heavy but not quite tense—just enough to let the power dynamics settle. The woman beside Makoto finally shifts after he makes a subtle shrug of his shoulder, and she quietly excuses herself as she rises and disappears through a side door, unnoticed by anyone but Levi.

Kenny raises a brow and shoots Levi a warning glance that reads behave, but he doesn’t say a word.

Makoto finally leans back, the lazy smile returning to his lips. “I don’t trust easily. You know this. But your name,” he gestures vaguely in the air, “it still carries weight. Especially with them.” His eyes flicker with meaning—whether it’s to the press, politicians, or war-hardened enemies, it’s unclear. Probably all of the above. “My daughter is… unique. She’s sweet, but not stupid. Pretty, but not a pushover. She doesn’t know what’s circling her yet, and that’s exactly why she needs protection. She knows her role, and I intend to have her keep playing that.”

Levi folds his arms. “Then hire a soldier.”

“I did,” Makoto replies simply. “I hired you.”

Something sharp passes between them. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.

Kenny sighs, slumping further into the couch. “You gonna stand all night like a coat rack, or you gonna sit and listen?”

Levi eyes the couch like it might bite, then slowly moves to perch on the edge—not relaxed, not open. Always ready. His stare stays locked on Makoto.

Makoto studies him in turn, then finally gives a small, tight smile. “You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

 “So have you.”

The smile lingers, but it doesn’t quite reach Makoto’s eyes. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

A silence settles again. Somewhere outside the door, the jazz track shifts to something slower, more sultry. Time continues as if the world doesn’t realize two predators just agreed to circle each other, for now. Then Makoto raises his glass again, eyes gleaming. “To the devil you know.”

Kenny chuckles, clinks his glass. Levi doesn't move. He just stares. Because to him, the devils have always worn suits like this one.

“How much?” He finally asks.

Makoto leisurely sips his drink, setting the glass onto the table between them. 

He leans back, fingers steepling loosely in front of him, head tilted slightly like he’s just been waiting for Levi to ask. “How much is her life worth to me?” he muses aloud, as if the question is more philosophical than transactional. “More than any sum I could ever offer. But you, Mr. Ackerman—you’re not a man who wastes time with sentiment.”

Levi’s silence confirms it.

Makoto chortles. “Ten thousand a week. A private penthouse suite. Round-the-clock access to every resource you’d need—transport, intel, weapons, contacts. And no leash. You work how you want, answer to no one but me.”

Kenny whistles low beside him. “That’s one hell of a package, even for you.”

Levi doesn’t look impressed. “Sounds like you expect a war.”

The atmosphere is a live wire—thrumming between them, sparking with old blood and new stakes. It’s broken by Makoto rising from his seat, his men following. He straightens out his suit jacket and makes a motion with his fingers. “Come, I’ll show you the prize right now.”

And Levi finds himself reluctantly following along like a dog, and Kenny too. The group of men exit from the curtains, heading back down the spiraling staircase. The music softens as they descend the staircase, like the club itself is aware something heavier just entered the room. Without a word, the other guests make way for the group, some women sending flirtatious waves or doe-eyed smiles towards Makoto.  Levi’s eyes flicker across the patrons who glance up, some pretending not to stare, others openly gawking. Power like Makoto’s always draws attention, and the entourage trailing behind only confirms it. Levi hates this part—the theatrics, the display, the illusion of untouchable grandeur. But he plays along, stoic as ever, even as they cut through the low hum of conversation like a blade through silk.

Makoto slides into the center seat at the lavish round table like a king returning to his throne. The plush leather molds around him effortlessly, his posture regal but relaxed. Levi takes the seat to his right, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. Kenny flops down on the left like he’s done this a thousand times—which, knowing him, he probably has.

The men behind them form a wall of polished muscle and sharp gazes, stationed with silent obedience. 

Makoto signals to a woman behind the bar with a simple glance, and almost instantly, she nods and disappears into the back. Levi’s gaze tracks the interaction, narrowing slightly. 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Only moments later, the crowd parts—slow and smooth—as you step out from behind the deep red curtain, flanked by two club hostesses who clearly pale in comparison. You're wearing a purple satin number, delicate and barely-there, its shimmer catching the warm light in all the wrong—and right—ways. Your hair is styled with effortless elegance, and you walk like you’ve never tripped a day in your life. Or like someone taught you never to look like you did.

Levi doesn’t breathe for a second. Not out of awe, but surprise.

He wasn’t expecting this. Well, you surely look…different.

You don’t look at the men who part like waves for you. You don’t even glance toward Makoto until you’re at the table, offering only a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Father,” you say smoothly, voice soft but clear.

Makoto gives a pleased nod. “Darling,” he murmurs, like the word itself is another performance.

You look to the man beside him—Kenny—and offer a subtle tilt of your head, polite, reserved. Then your eyes slide over to Levi. Your gaze lingers.

And Levi… feels it.

Not just the scrutiny. But the weight of expectation. Of curiosity. Maybe even challenge.

“Having a good time?” Your father asks as you lean down, turning your head slightly so he can plant a reverent kiss on your cheek. “Mingling and all that, yes?”

You chuckle, red-stained lips curling upwards in a soft way. “Oh, yes, father. Of course I’ve been. I’ve made friends with some of those you've asked me to.”

There’s a silent look in your eyes—like you and your father are telepathically communicating. Levi’s eyes barely stray from you, forcing himself to get familiar with his charge’s expressions. Your father hums in approval, nodding. “Good girl.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, head tilting. “Though…maybe some of my friends are having a bit…too much fun.”

Makoto follows your line of sight toward a semi-rowdy group of older men. Drained glasses littering their table as one they laugh boisterously at their own jokes. Your father’s jaw ticks slightly, giving three of his men a tiny nod in the group’s direction. 

The command is silent but understood. The three guards move swiftly—like shadows trained in courtesy and intimidation—drifting toward the group of men without needing to speak. Their presence alone sobers the laughter, draining it from the air like a sudden draft of cold wind. The drunkest among them nearly chokes on his drink, sputtering apologies before anyone even lays a hand on him. Levi doesn’t miss the shift. The way your lips press together just slightly. Like you're both amused and weary of what your father’s influence can do.

Makoto turns back to you, eyes glittering with a sharp kind of pride. “You’ve always had a good eye.”

You shrug lightly, folding your hands in front of you like you're nothing more than an accessory at the table. “I just like keeping things...elegant.”

It’s then that Makoto gestures toward Levi with the casual air of someone introducing a pet he’s particularly fond of. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’ll be looking after you from now on.”

You finally turn to face him fully.

Levi meets your gaze, this time with intention. The color in your eyes is sharp, observant—more calculating than your painted smile suggests. It’s a quick scan, top to bottom, and Levi feels it again. The test. Like you're waiting to see what kind of man your father’s put in front of you this time. “I see,” you murmur, tone unreadable. Then, with graceful attachment, you sit at the table—choosing the empty lap of Levi himself. He stiffens in surprise, his initial instinct urging him to push you off. Your sweet scent invades his nostrils instantly. However, he withstands it, deciding he wouldn’t like to deal with the consequences as of now. “You like wine, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask lightly, pouring yourself a glass from the bottle that was already waiting.

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes study you, more than the wine, more than your dress. Trying to read between your lines. Trying to decide if you’re amused by all this. “I don’t drink,” he replies flatly.

“Oh, what a shame. This is the finest liquor in all of Marley.” You pout, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. Your eyes don’t stray from his as you indulge, licking your lips clean when you bring it away. “My father must’ve really hired such a resolute man.” You chuckle, leaning forward slightly and sending your father a subtle glance. 

“As resolute as there is.” Makoto huffs in amusement. 

Makoto’s pride crackles in the air like a cigar ember burning low—hot, glowing, dangerous.

Levi doesn’t respond to the praise. He just sits there, solid and unsmiling, posture stiff beneath the soft weight of you in his lap. He can feel the way you effortlessly carry yourself. You wear your charm like a silk veil—delicate and graceful. 

You swirl the wine in your glass, voice lilting as you speak again. “Will he be sleeping in my room too?”

Makoto chuckles low, slow. “Only if you give him reason to.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to give your father a look. He almost wants to blurt out the obvious question of why he’s allowing you to act like this in front of him. Why he seems completely okay with a hypothetical situation of some man you just met sleeping in his daughter’s room. But instead, he’s joking about it—going along with it, enabling it.

Do you usually act like this with men?

Kenny lets out a bark of laughter at that. You glance back at Levi, brows lifting. “Do you take orders well, Mr. Ackerman?”

He stares back at you, unflinching. “Only from the ones I respect.”

You hum, intrigued but unshaken. “I suppose we’ll see if I earn that.” 

The moment hangs there—heavy, stretched taut like wire. Then you slide off him in one smooth motion, as if the whole thing was just a test. A show of dominance in velvet gloves. You cross your legs and lean back in your seat beside him, your posture still elegant. The toe of your heel nonchalantly brushes against his calf, up and down. 

Makoto raises his glass in a lazy toast, gaze moving between you and Levi. “To new arrangements,” he declares.

You and Kenny echo the sentiment, a sweet giggle falling from your lips. Glasses clink. Wine swirls. The club resumes its slow, seductive pulse around them—but Levi knows something in the air has shifted.

This wasn’t just a job anymore.

This was theater. A powder keg. And he was now sitting in the front row, watching it smolder.

And the woman sitting beside him—who had moments ago treated his lap like a throne—now looks like a statue carved from something more fragile than stone. Still, poised, but not entirely present.

Levi glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You're watching the club floor now, eyes half-lidded, fingers idly tracing the rim of your wine glass. You laugh at something Makoto says, soft and sweet, but Levi hears how hollow it is. Like you’ve told that laugh to show up on cue too many times. And as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, Levi’s thoughts crawl.

Makoto didn’t hire a bodyguard for your safety. Not really. 

 He hired a leash.

But Levi Ackerman doesn’t do leashes—not for long.

(open) taglist: @myahfig4 @miss-dior @kouyoumarryme @chericheriladeee

@deniixlovezelda @whitenightdreams @yoriichitsugikunii @wittyjasontodd @toj1swh0re

@antiv3nus @gojowifefrfr @alt--er--love @beabamboo @jeonwiixard

@bottomlesschaps @luna-v-roiya @lovingstudenthumancookie @toji-dabi-wife @naomikozura

@kimvmarvel @elmaa127 @frrxnyw @aldebrana @koji-akeme

@bouquetoflove @reivelmin @teal-anchor @wakasaishot @silveritydreams

@starrynights23x @cherlouu @littlebabyrae

[andreearodriiguez]

💞

[pennylanewrites]

when we were young [levi ackerman]

now playing: when we were young - adele

tags: fluff, old levi reminiscing, established relationship, flashback, canonverse, mentions of violence (non-graphic)

levi didn’t mind getting old, not really. he didn’t care for the deep smile lines or the wrinkles around his eyes. however, he did mind that he couldn’t pick his wife up and carry her to bed with ease anymore. he especially hated that his knee would still buckle if he didn’t use that bloody cane to get across a room.

levi ackerman, for the first time in his fifty-five years of life, had managed to nick himself while shaving. you stepped into the bathroom to grab something, eyes wide at the stream of blood running down his neck.

“what happened?” you were quick to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet, eyes panning at him.

“i was just shaving, keep it down.” he rolled his eyes, sitting at the edge of the tub. he unbuttoned his shirt, already stained at the collar, and discarded it on the floor.

you looked down at him with a smile. his muscles were still there, though much less defined. the scars from his youth, long healed, a painful reminder of what he had been through.

you dabbed alcohol on a cotton pad before sitting down on his good leg.

“this is pretty deep, levi.” you muttered. he winced when the alcohol came in touch with the cut on his cheek, his fingers pressing against your waist.

“my hand still shakes sometimes.” he looked down at his three remaining fingers with a sigh. the nerves were all messed up, but he was insistent on using that hand for everything still.

“it’s okay, old man. i’ll shave you from now on.” you chuckled, cleaning up the dried-up blood from his jaw.

“you know what this reminds me of, brat?”

levi’s brows were furrowed, a scowl permanently etched in his features as you tried to make him sit down.

“captain, your face is full of blood.”

“it’s not mine.”

“some of it is yours.”

you weren’t really sure what had happened. it was all so fast. a soldier calling you a slut, you punching him, him slapping you back. that’s when levi had stepped in.

you finally managed to get levi to sit down, opening the first-aid kit beside you on his desk.

“he shouldn’t have slapped you.” was all he muttered before getting up again. you brought your hands to his shoulders, pushing him down with all the force you could muster.

“hey! let someone help you for once.” gray eyes shot up at yours, growing wide when you sat down on his knee to keep him in place. he didn’t utter a single word as you cleaned his face up with a damp towel, not even wincing when you dabbed alcohol against his busted lip.

he realised he didn’t particularly mind your breath fanning against his cheek, or your hair falling in his eyes. he certainly didn’t mind you shuffling on his lap, like you weren’t his soldier and he your captain.

“you’re sitting on me.” he said, more like an acknowledgment. you panicked and tried to get up, but levi’s arms wrapped around your hips. “thanks.”

“for sitting on you?” a smile played on your lips in the dimly-lit office, “captain.” you added, to be safe.

“don’t call me captain like that.”

“like what?”

“you’re making it dirty.”

“what does it remind you of, captain?” you shook levi out of his thoughts. he wrapped his arms further around your waist, pulling you closer. he knew you remembered the same thing.

“almost thirty years later, you’re still cheeky.”

“it never goes away.” you sighed, leaning down to peck his lips.

in his memory, he was lifting you up with one arm to plop you down on the desk and kiss you. in the present, you had to pull him up carefully and hand him his cane.

levi didn’t mind, though. some parts of him still worked just fine.