dearest gentle reader

Synopsis: You and Satoru steal the spotlight on the red carpet at the premiere of your first film together, setting off a media frenzy with your undeniable chemistry.

a/n: I’ll admit it—I did imagine myself with Timothée Chalamet while writing this.

Next one-shot>>

The lights flashed relentlessly.

But they never bothered you. You’d done this too many times to count.

Perfect poses. Polished smiles. Years of PR training on full display.

Your name echoed across the red carpet, shouted by photographers, screamed by fans. It was all part of the job. And tonight, that’s exactly what you were here to do.

The premiere of Crossed Lines was everything the studio had promised: romantic tension, slow-burn angst, impeccable wardrobe, and, most importantly, a press cycle ignited by the magnetic chemistry between you and your co-star, Gojo Satoru.

He stood on the opposite end of the carpet, posing like he’d invented the art. Cameras adored him. So did the crowd. His suit was tailored to perfection, the top buttons left undone just enough to tease the chiseled lines of his chest.

You, as always, walked onto the carpet like you owned it.

Your gown was pure drama. Vintage-inspired, but undeniably yours. A teal blue dress shimmered under the flashes, catching light like fire trapped in crystal. Beads and sequins, hand-stitched across semi-sheer fabric, refracted into a halo of soft brilliance.

The halter neckline swept up and behind your neck, crossing delicately over your chest and revealing a sliver of your toned midriff through an artful cutout. The dress sculpted your waist, then flowed over your hips with effortless grace, hugging every curve before plunging into a scandalously low back. Beaded embellishments trailed down your spine like a constellation, guiding every eye directly to you.

Strappy heels peeked from beneath the hem, and a cascade of long, straight hair falling down your back, but it was the dress, that perfect balance of reveal and conceal, that sent the fans into a frenzy.

You turned slightly to offer the cameras a new angle—

And then the screaming changed. Sharper. Louder. A pitch only chaos could coordinate.

You blinked, startled, just as a tall figure appeared beside you, slipping a hand around your bare waist with maddening ease.

“Miss me?” Gojo’s voice dropped low by your ear, warm and infuriatingly smooth.

You didn’t have to look. No one else would dare.

“Satoru,” you hissed through clenched teeth, lips still smiling for the cameras. “You’re crashing my solo shots.”

“Correction,” he murmured, giving your waist a playful squeeze. “I’m improving them.”

Photographers erupted.

“LOOK HERE, SATORU!”

“KISS HER!”

“ARE YOU DATING FOR REAL?”

“Y/N, SAY SOMETHING!”

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. Still, you kept your eyes on the photographers, chin tilted just right, smile unwavering.

But the heat of his stare was relentless. You turned, finally meeting it—

Only to find him inches away.

Then his hand tugged at your waist. Swift. Sure.

And suddenly, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes flew open.

The crowd erupted.

The flashes turned blinding.

When he pulled away, it was as if nothing had happened. He looked maddeningly composed, blue eyes alight with mischief.

“I just gave the people what they wanted,” he said, voice smug.

You stared at him, stunned, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the chaos.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He winked. “You’re welcome.”

After that entire chaos, you had barely recovered before the solo interviews began.

The reporter you landed with smiled like she knew a secret. “You look absolutely mesmerizing, Y/N, the hair, the dress, the heels. You’re giving full goddess tonight.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Thank you… You look amazing too, by the way.”

She leaned in, her tone playful. “Alright, spill. What was the best part of working with the Gojo Satoru? That chemistry in the film? Electric.”

"The best part?" You smiled, tilting your head slightly toward Satoru, who was a few feet away, being interviewed by another reporter, his smirk aimed directly at you. "Honestly? He makes it hard to stay in character… and even harder to remember we were acting in the first place."

Then, a beat. Your eyes flicked to the interviewer. "That kind of chemistry isn’t scripted."

“So… that kiss back there. A stunt, or is there something real brewing?”

You laughed. Too high-pitched. Too nervous.

“Oh, trust me, if it were real, I wouldn’t find out on the red carpet.”

She chuckled but raised an eyebrow. “So… no comment?”

“I plead the fifth,” you said smoothly. “I think our movie says enough.”

Behind you, a familiar warmth. A whisper of cologne. Gojo again.

“She pleads the fifth, huh?” he said, leaning close to the mic and stealing the spotlight like it belonged to him. “I say she’s just shy.”

Then, to your complete horror and everyone else’s delight, he kissed you again, this time at the crook of your neck. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but the cameras didn’t miss a thing.

The crowd exploded.

You flushed all the way to your ears. “Satoru—!”

He only grinned. “Oops. Guess I’ll plead the sixth.”

And before anyone could stop him, he tugged your hand and walked off the carpet, dragging you along with him like you hadn’t just blacked out from public humiliation.

-----

The next morning, your phone buzzed like it was possessed.

Every notification was some variation of:

BREAKING: Satoru & Y/N — New Hollywood Romance? #CrossedLines or RealLove trending #1

You groaned, face buried in your pillow. Then Gojo’s name lit up your screen. He’d sent a screenshot of the most obnoxious headline of them all:

SATORU & Y/N SEAL ROMANCE WITH TWO RED CARPET KISSES

Underneath, his message read:

“Iconic. You’re welcome 😎 ”

You sent back:

“I hate you. That was definitely not the plan.”

He replied instantly:

“Sure, but did we look like it wasn’t real? 😉 ”

You didn’t answer. Not yet.

You just stared at the ceiling, heart fluttering in a way it shouldn’t have.

Because you weren’t dating Gojo Satoru.

Synopsis: The banter between you and Levi shows no signs of slowing, especially now that he’s pressing you with the new book recommendation. Meanwhile, you’re starting to settle comfortably into the chaos of his friend group, with Hange and Erwin circling close.

a/n: I was tempted to add something spicy to this part, but I didn’t want to rush the pacing or let the chapter get too long. I’ve really been enjoying weaving the story around these two—and getting to play with Hange and Erwin’s dynamic too.

Thank you so much for all the comments; they truly reignite the fire in me every time. And to every pure math major out there—please forgive me! I usually just pick the first topics that come up in my search. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it.

<<Previous

Part seven: I Want You in My Art

It was overcast, cold enough to make you wish you’d layered up. The wind tugged at the hem of your coat as you matched pace with Levi, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his expression unreadable as always.

You glanced sideways. “You’ve been brooding for three blocks. Is this still about Anna Karenina?”

His silence said everything.

“I wasn’t saying what she did was smart,” you clarified. “Just… tragic love is still love. It was real for her.”

Levi finally spoke, voice clipped. “Love doesn’t excuse recklessness.”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But there’s something kind of admirable about wanting someone that much.”

He shot you a look—eyes narrowed, calculating. “Is that what you want? A train-track ending over some guy who looks good in a uniform?”

“God, no,” you laughed, half-sputtering. “I just meant… I don’t know. I’ve never been in love. Maybe I’m too delusional.”

“Too focused on becoming a smut valedictorian,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

You choked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve read half the erotica in the café, and your bookshelf screams quantum equations. If that’s not academic contradiction…”

You elbowed him lightly. “At least I read. You just brood and critique everything I say.”

His jaw ticked. “That’s not true.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

But he didn’t take the bait. He went quiet again, eyes fixed forward like he was working through something heavier than philosophy midterms.

You studied him for a beat, then asked softly, “Have you ever been in love?”

The air shifted.

He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled, slow and measured, like the question itself had weight.

“Once,” he said finally. “Didn’t end well.”

Your steps faltered. His voice hadn’t been bitter. Just hollow.

“Oh,” you murmured.

He glanced at you then, gaze unreadable. “Don’t waste your life chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”

You stared at him, blinking. It was the most Levi thing you’d ever heard. Sharp. Guarded and quietly devastating.

You opened your mouth to ask something else—

“Y/N!”

Moblit’s voice cut across the quad like a pebble skipping through still water. You turned, startled, just as he jogged up, cheeks flushed from the cold.

He fell into step beside you, cheerfully animated. “Hey, did you see the new problem set? All non-Euclidean geometry. You’re gonna love it. Rico saved us seats.”

You lit up. “Seriously? That’s perfect……I was just reviewing hyperbolic planes last night.”

Levi didn’t say anything, but you felt his presence retreat, like a wave drawing back from shore.

“Morning, Levi,” Moblit added, oblivious.

Levi nodded, barely.

As you and Moblit veered toward the math building, your laugh echoed once, soft enough to escape Moblit’s notice, sharp enough to splinter inside Levi’s chest.

He didn’t move.

His jaw clenched.

He scowled harder, stuffing his hands deeper into his coat pockets.

“She has shit taste,” he muttered, this time to himself.

And yet, he stayed rooted on the path, watching until you disappeared through the doors.

––––

It was another Sunday.

The scent of brewed espresso lingered in the soft-lit corners of the café as the hour edged toward eight. You were curled into the corner booth, boots tucked beneath you, one hand supporting your chin, the other holding Levi’s latest recommendation: The Handmaid’s Tale.

You’d just finished chapter four, brow furrowed at the slow-burn unease threading through every page.

Behind the bar, Levi moved with his usual quiet precision—cleaning, rinsing mugs, rearranging the pastry display even though it had been sold out since six. The “CLOSED” sign hung in the window. The last customer had shuffled out ten minutes ago.

He didn’t speak until he caught you flipping a page too fast.

“You sure you’re actually reading it?” he said, low and dry.

You glanced up. “I’m on chapter five.”

He didn’t smile, but you caught the flicker of interest. “What do you think?”

“It’s unsettling. Sparse. Kinda claustrophobic.” You tapped the page. “Like the narrator’s choking on her own thoughts.”

He nodded once. “Good.”

You raised a brow. “That’s a weird reaction.”

“It’s doing its job.”

You tilted your head. “Honestly, I expected something more dramatic. Probably because of the series.”

Levi’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “Ignore the series.”

“Wow, okay.” You laughed. “Did Hulu hurt you personally?”

“It butchered the tone. Turned nuance into spectacle.”

You held up your hands, grinning. “Alright, alright. I’ll pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Satisfied, Levi moved to the tables near your booth, wiping them down with a damp cloth. He glanced over his shoulder. “That beast of yours still alive?”

You blinked, thrown. Small talk. From Levi.

He nodded toward you. “Beethoven. Whatever.”

You narrowed your eyes. “His name is Bertholdt. And yes, he’s alive—and judging everything.”

“Figures. He nearly killed me last time.”

You tried not to smile at the image of Levi being bested by your peaceful, chronically unimpressed cat. “He did not. He’s a good boy. Maybe your dry personality triggered him.”

“He has the energy of an apathetic doorman.”

You laughed. “That’s rude.”

A beat of silence passed. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and looked back at the book, adjusting your cat-shaped glasses. Levi returned behind the bar. A few moments later, he spoke again.

“There’s an art show next Saturday. Miche’s exhibit.”

You looked up. “Miche? I think Hange mentioned he’s built like a linebacker? She said he once cracked a chair by sitting in it too fast.”

“He prefers ‘sculpted,’” Levi deadpanned. “It’s mostly atmospheric stuff. Textural. Erwin’s going. Hange too, obviously. Might be tolerable... with another person.”

You blinked. “Are you inviting me?”

He shrugged, too casual. “You read depressing literature about velvet rods and senseless sex, and named your cat after a war criminal. You’re qualified.”

“So romantic,” you snorted.

“It’s not a date.”

You grinned, sensing how hard he clung to that line. “Sure, Levi. Definitely not a date. And ‘velvet rod’ is oddly specific.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t look at you directly, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Hange said she’ll pick you up.”

You watched him head toward the back, his jacket catching the amber light as he passed beneath it. You looked down at The Handmaid’s Tale, the pages open in your lap.

But you weren’t really reading anymore.

––––

All week, you buzzed with anticipation for your not-a-date date. You and Hange had spent hours debating outfits like the fate of the free world depended on it—sorting through color palettes, arguing over boho versus minimalist like it was a thesis defense. You counted down the days, then the hours, then the minutes.

Finally, it was Saturday.

The gallery smelled faintly of paint and eucalyptus. White walls, moody lighting, and a soft indie playlist hummed through the space like emotion had a soundtrack. Hange had practically launched you through the entrance with the kind of zeal she usually reserved for successful experiments and government conspiracies.

“Look alive,” she whispered in a stage-hiss. “We’re here to support Miche, whether you get the art or think it’s just emotionally-charged finger painting.”

“I already feel like a fraud,” you muttered, eyeing a nearby painting full of jagged red brushstrokes. “Is that a volcano mid-eruption or... someone’s unresolved trauma?”

“Same thing,” Hange said brightly. “See? You do get it.”

Levi was already waiting inside, clad in a sharp black jacket that made him look like the lead detective in an indie noir film. Erwin stood beside him, calm as ever, like he’d already accepted the chaos that came with this friend group.

Levi gave you a slow once-over. “You look like a Tumblr goddess.”

You blinked. “Thanks—”

“If Tumblr had a nervous breakdown in a cottagecore aisle at Goodwill.”

“Oh,” you deadpanned. “So it’s a backhanded compliment.”

“It’s a sentence,” he said, flat.

Erwin chuckled. “Translation: he thinks you look nice, but he’s physically incapable of saying it without sounding like an existential crisis.”

“She said she wanted to connect with the art,” Hange added smugly, throwing air quotes like confetti.

Levi stared at you like you’d confessed to baptizing yourself in acrylic paint. “And you thought dressing like a patchouli-scented goddess would help?”

“I thought maybe if I looked the part, I’d feel something,” you said with a shrug. “So far, all I feel is broke and underqualified.”

“That’s because you and Blind Bartimaeus here thought you had to ‘connect’ to the art,” Levi muttered.

Hange gasped, scandalized. “Did you just call me Blind Bartimaeus?!”

“I’m very sure it was your idea, Four Eyes.”

“That’s blasphemous,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “Aren’t you worried about divine retribution?”

Levi rolled his eyes like he’d been punished enough already. “Let it come.”

“It definitely will.” Erwin murmured. “You should stop calling Hange names”

“No,” Levi replied. “She should stop calling me Shorty.”

“Aren’t you short?” you said, feigning innocence.

Levi gave you the coldest glare.

“Accurate,” Erwin and Hange chorused.

You moved through the gallery as a unit, an increasingly chaotic one. You paused at each piece, trying your best to understand. One canvas looked like depression if it were a weather system, another resembled tax season. Hange narrated every piece like she was hosting a paranormal documentary. “This one? Definitely Levi’s repressed feelings.”

“Keep projecting,” Levi muttered, deadpan.

Eventually, he muttered something about “saving what’s left of his brain cells” and tugged you away by the wrist toward another hallway.

You blinked at him. “Scared I’ll start describing the next piece as ‘corporate angst in gouache’?”

“No,” he said. “Worried you’ll try to write a thesis about it and get a PhD in Aesthetic Delusion.”

But you didn’t get the chance to answer.

You turned a corner and both of you stopped.

The piece ahead was quiet. It wasn’t loud or tortured. It was a horizon of deep navy and midnight blue, flecked with pale silver and streaks of lavender. It shimmered under the gallery lights like a frozen lake reflecting the northern sky. The plaque read: Northern Peace.

Levi stilled beside you.

His hands, usually buried in pockets or crossed in suspicion, hung at his sides. His jaw was tense, but his eyes were soft. Locked on the painting.

You watched him, not the art. “What do you see?”

“It reminds me of the silence after a fight,” he said quietly. “The kind that leaves you sitting in a room alone. Just… listening to yourself breathe. Wondering what the hell it was all for.”

The words hung in the air, like dust in sunlight.

You glanced at him again. “That’s… oddly poetic.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he muttered.

“Is that what’s behind the grumpiness? Secret poetry?”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away either.

Slowly, you reached out. Palm to palm, nothing more. His hand twitched under yours but didn’t move.

“If anyone asks,” he said, eyes still on the painting, “I’m only letting you do this because I’m avoiding smiting from Tumblr Gaia.”

You smiled, fingers brushing against his lightly.

“Sure, Short King.”

Levi gave you a long-suffering look, but didn’t move his hand.

“Cute,” came a new voice behind you. “Didn’t know I was hosting a live performance of emotional growth.”

You turned, startled. A tall man stood there with tousled blond hair and a calm, amused expression. His voice was low and dry, like he didn’t speak unless it mattered—and when it did, you listened. He wore a muted gray coat, hands tucked into the pockets like he had nothing to prove.

Levi sighed. “Speak of the devil.”

Miche.

“Oh!” you straightened up. “You must be Miche. I’m Y/N.”

He nodded, taking your outstretched hand in an easy shake. “I figured. Hange doesn’t shut up about you.”

“That’s deeply threatening,” you muttered.

“She meant it in a good way,” Miche said, a trace of amusement in his voice. “I think.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Levi deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t either,” Hange chimed in, reappearing with Erwin and a half-eaten brownie from the refreshment table. “But it was affectionate slander!”

You laughed nervously, then glanced around. “So… confession time. I didn’t understand a single thing in there.”

You gestured back toward the previous exhibit.

Miche’s brow arched slightly. “Not even one piece?”

“I thought one looked like a tax audit,” you said honestly. “Another one gave me heartburn.”

Miche stared at you for a beat. Then, he grinned. “Perfect. That was the intended effect.”

You blinked. “Wait—really?”

“No,” he said, turning smoothly. “But I like the honesty.”

Levi snorted behind you. “You’re fueling the wrong fire.”

“She’s refreshing,” Miche said simply. “Everyone walks in pretending to get it. No one ever says it’s all nonsense.”

“I didn’t say it was nonsense!” you exclaimed. “I said I didn’t understand it.”

“Which is fair,” Miche said. “Not everything’s meant to be understood. Sometimes it’s just meant to be felt.”

Hange nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! It’s the essence of art!”

“You called one of the paintings ‘Levi’s rage in acrylic,’” Erwin reminded her mildly.

“And I stand by that.”

Miche tilted his head at you. “But really, I’m glad you came. You look good in this kind of space. Like you belong here.”

You blinked. “That’s... actually really nice.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Levi muttered, voice acidic.

Miche looked at him and smirked. “Someone has to. Otherwise she’ll keep taking your feedback seriously.”

“His feedback was that I look like Tumblr had a breakdown in a thrift store.”

“Stylish breakdown,” Miche said. “Very on trend.”

You beamed. Levi looked like he was actively reconsidering his life choices.

“I should’ve just come alone,” he mumbled.

“And miss all this ego inflation?” you teased. “Never.”

“Regret,” Levi deadpanned. “Pure and immediate regret.”

You couldn’t stop smiling.

Whatever you didn’t understand about the art, you were beginning to understand this. The cadence of inside jokes, the brushstrokes of teasing and quiet loyalty.

It was a kind of art you couldn't analyze, only feel.

Nothing like the equations or smutty paperbacks you clung to for comfort.

Maybe this, too, was worth reveling in.

----

a/n: I fully leaned into the Bertholdt meme. How could I not? It was way too juicy to pass up. Honestly, I had the idea long before I even wrote this part. Hehehe.

He’s sitting beside you, on that old wooden bench by the lake. The fading light of the afternoon is spilling over everything, painting the world in golden hues. The air smells faintly of earth and water, and the soft breeze teases the edges of your hair, making it flutter in a way that makes him stare.

He watches you quietly, noticing the way your feet rest against the stone, the slight curve of your lips, the gentle way your fingers move across the worn fabric of your jeans. He has seen you like this countless times, but today it feels different. The longer he looks at you, the more aware he becomes of every little detail.

Something has shifted, something subtle but undeniable. It’s always been there, beneath the surface, lurking in the quiet spaces between words, but now it’s louder. It’s almost impossible to ignore.

He’s never told you how he feels. How could he? How could he tell you that, for years, he’s watched you with this ache in his chest, this gnawing pull that won’t go away? He’s seen you date others, seen you laugh and cry and live your life, all the while knowing, deep down, that he loved you in a way that was never just friendship.

He’s afraid to ruin what you have. Afraid of the words that might change everything, of the truth that could shatter the delicate balance between you two.

And yet, as he sits next to you now, as he watches you smile like you always do, he can’t help but feel like he’s holding onto something fragile.

You catch his gaze, your brow furrowing just slightly. “What’s wrong?” you ask, the way you always do when something seems off, when he’s lost in his own thoughts.

For a second, he almost says it. He almost tells you everything he’s been feeling. The way his heart races when you laugh. The way his stomach sinks every time you look at someone else. The way the thought of losing you, of losing this, fills him with a fear he can’t explain.

But instead, he just smiles, that same easy smile he always gives you. The one that says everything’s fine, everything’s normal, that nothing has changed.

Because how could he tell you? How could he say it out loud, when he knows that saying the words might change everything between you?

You lean back on the bench, stretching your arms overhead, your voice light and carefree. “You’re being weird today. I swear, you’re usually better at hiding whatever’s going on in that dumb head of yours.”

He watches you, the words hanging in the air between you. He knows you’ll never see it. Not like he sees it. You’ll never know just how much he loves you.

For now, he stays quiet and leans his “dumb” head on your shoulder.

“Don’t be mean.”

Sumarry: Falling in love with a kindergarten teacher after a divorce from his wife, Levi thinks deeply about if ever he can reciprocate this feeling and is afraid you wouldn't like him just as much as he does, and yet you somehow have mixed feelings about him. After all, a divorced man shouldn't fall in love, and yet he can't help it.

Tags: divorced Levi, teacher reader, hurt, falling in love, denial, female reader

"I assure you, Mr. Ackerman, your son will be safe as always under my watch. He’s a good boy and behaves well; he’s already made some lovely friends in class." You smile reassuringly at Levi as his son, Elijah, enters the bright, colorful classroom. The sight of him running toward his friends at the table brings warmth to your heart—a daily reminder of why you chose to work in kindergarten.

"I know, I know, it's just..." Levi pauses, running a hand through his hair, his face clouded with worry. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as he quietly says your last name, almost like he’s confiding in you. "I’m worried about him. This divorce has really affected him, and I can't shake the feeling that it's my fault."

Levi sighs heavily, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and concern. "I wish I could just take away all the stress and hurt he's been feeling." You nod, understanding the weight of his words. It’s never easy navigating such turbulent waters as a parent, especially when a child’s emotional well-being is at stake. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m always here for you. If anything’s bothering you, please feel free to talk to me anytime.” Levi nodded slowly at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing just a touch. He stepped back, waved briefly, and then turned to enter his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove away.

You closed the door behind you, taking a moment to breathe in the lively atmosphere of the kindergarten. The sizable room was filled with the joyful sounds of children laughing and playing with their friends. It was still early—the class wouldn’t start until 8 a.m.—so you welcomed the delightful chaos, letting them indulge in their energetic play.

“Levi always has eyes for you,” chirped Petra, her voice bright and teasing as she skipped over to you, hands clasped playfully behind her back. Her smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but grin back at her. “Ever since he started bringing his son here, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you! I swear, even when your back is turned, he’s still watching you. He’s completely smitten!”

"Oh, come on! He’s just staring because he might have something on his mind," you said, trying to play it cool, but Petra wasn't convinced. The tension in the air made it clear that you both were undeniably smitten with each other, and she wasn’t about to let you brush it off.

"Nonsense! I’m not buying your excuses, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about!" She grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “He’s in love with you! Have you ever considered that a divorced man might be falling for you, especially after enduring such a painful breakup? He’s looking for a chance to love again!”

You grimaced at the thought, your mind racing with the implications. "It just feels too soon for him to jump into another relationship. Besides, I might just be a temporary distraction to fill his void. I honestly don’t think Levi is ready to move on. He has a son to care for!”

Petra rolled her eyes and let out a playful “tut-tut” sound, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re missing the obvious! Just look into his eyes! There’s a spark there—he’s ready to open his heart again. And what about his son? Have you seen how he looks at you? It’s as if you’re not just a teacher to him but a mother figure. He admires you more than his actual mother!”

You felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you as you considered Petra’s words.

"I don’t think so, Petra." You shrugged, feeling a bit uneasy about the whole situation. "His son might just be looking for a mother figure to admire. It’s not really a big deal, is it?"

Petra pouted slightly, her frustration evident as she rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated scoff. Getting more animated, she shook you again, her voice softening as she tried to offer you comfort. "Come on, don’t doubt yourself so much! What if this is your chance to finally score? You’ve never been in a relationship, right? Maybe this could be something truly special!"

She sighed and leaned in closer, her gaze steady as she said your name gently. "Look, I know Levi’s been through a rough patch, but maybe it's time to have hope again. I mean, all of us have noticed how you two share those long, fleeting glances before looking away. It’s like the universe is giving us a sign! How has our little ship not sailed yet?"

A grin crept onto your face at the thought. The idea of the entire community secretly shipping you and Levi was both amusing and surprising.

"Ship us? That’s ridiculous!" you protested, pulling away from her teasing grasp. "There’s no way! Levi would probably be uncomfortable with that idea."

"No, he wouldn’t," came Oluo's voice from across the room, cutting in as he intervened in the squabble between Eren and Jean. The two kindergartners were always up to something, causing chaos wherever they went. “Every time he hears it, he gets this troubled look on his face like he’s trying to suppress his true feelings.”

You looked up at Oluo, your heart racing a little at the implications of his words. Maybe there was more to Levi's reactions than you had initially thought.

Oh this is ridiculous!

You shake your head, trying to banish the unsettling thought that had crept into your mind. It’s almost laughable to imagine Levi being in love with you, especially after just having gone through a divorce. The weight of that reality sits heavily in your chest.

He's just using you as a temporary distraction, a way to trick himself into believing he’s moving on.

Your spiraling thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a loud, agonized scream from Oluo. You turn to see him doubled over, clutching his mouth where his tongue has been bitten off in the chaos of a fight that had erupted between Eren and Jean. Blood oozes between his fingers as he winces in pain, and the two troublemakers continue to exchange reckless punches, lost in their own world of brawling hatred.

Petra, worried and concern, rushes in to help Oluo, this is going to be a long day ahead.

——————

Levi sat in his car, fidgeting nervously in his seat as he stared at the message on his phone. The sunlight seeped through the windshield, casting a warm glow on his anxious expression. He was wrestling with the dilemma of whether or not to ask you out on a date. The idea of it filled him with both excitement and apprehension. He wanted to make it feel natural, to express his feelings without coming off as awkward.

Fortunately, the parking lot was empty, granting him a little privacy as he contemplated his next move. It was his day off, and this felt like the perfect opportunity to gather the courage to take the leap.

Ever since that day, he brought his son to your kindergarten, Levi found himself drawn to you. You had been a source of comfort and support for him, always reassuring him with your warm demeanor and encouraging words. Your exchanges—filled with playful banter and genuine concern—had become the highlight of his day, whether it was through the quick messages during nap time or the thoughtful updates you shared about his son.

When you gave him your phone number, he felt a surge of hope. It wasn't just about keeping in touch with his son; it was also an invitation to deepen the connection he felt with you. Those daily chats turned into something more meaningful than he had anticipated. As he thought about you, he realized that his feelings had grown into something resembling love. Now, he just needed to find the right moment to express it, hoping that you felt something similar too.

Ever since Levi divorced his wife, the painful memories of their tumultuous relationship linger in his mind like shadows that refuse to fade. Her betrayal, marked by infidelity and a barrage of verbal and even physical confrontations, left deep scars on his heart. The most heartbreaking aspect was witnessing his young son caught in the crossfire, helplessly observing the daily fights that erupted between his parents. Levi still remembers the painful image of his son retreating to his room, tears streaming down his innocent face, questioning why his mother and father couldn't find a way to love each other instead of hurt.

The emotional toll of the divorce weighed heavily on Levi, driving him into a spiral of despair. It hurt so much that he knew he had to seek therapy—he needed to heal, not just for himself, but for his son, who depended on him as a single father. After the divorce, his wife severed all ties, leaving him to shoulder the burdens of parenthood alone, including the financial responsibilities of child support that she neglected.

A decade of marriage had turned into a painful chapter of his life that seemed wasted, leaving him feeling lost and defeated. He fought through dark days when he felt he might give up entirely, but just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, he met you.

You entered his life like a gentle light in the darkness. Unlike his past, your kindness and caring nature provided him solace. You understood his pain instinctively and were always there for him, even during the times he withdrew, ghosting you in moments of struggle. Yet, you continued to check on him, demonstrating patience and compassion that he never expected and deeply appreciated.

Those fleeting moments when you two locked eyes brought a warmth to his heart that he hadn’t felt in years. He found your shyness endearing, how you looked away quickly when he caught your gaze; it made him smile and feel something he thought was lost forever. Despite the weight of being a divorced man, he couldn’t help but fall for you, an unexpected yet beautiful realization in his life.

You saved him from his darkest moments, and words couldn't fully express his gratitude. The healing you brought into his life was immeasurable, and for that, he was eternally thankful.

With a heavy heart, he found himself clicking "delete" on the message he had felt so compelled to send. The words he had carefully crafted seemed to vanish in an instant, but the longing to ask you out in real life remained steadfast in his mind. Nerves fluttered in his stomach, and a wave of anxiety washed over him, but deep down, he clung to his hope like a lifeline.

————————

As the school bell rang, the classroom door swung open, and a wave of exuberant children poured out, their laughter echoing through the halls. Parents rushed in, scanning the sea of familiar faces to find their little ones, eager to embrace them after a long day. Meanwhile, you took a moment to survey the scene before turning back to the task at hand—organizing the classroom and tidying up after a fulfilling day of teaching.

With a slight sigh, you began gathering the scattered papers and art supplies, grateful for the help of Petra and Oluo, who chatted amiably as they tackled similar chores. Outside, Gunther and Eld were responsible for cleaning the playground, their playful banter mingling with the sounds of children. You smiled despite your fatigue; witnessing the joy on your students' faces made every bit of effort worthwhile. Each child seemed to find comfort and inspiration in your lessons, forging a unique bond that you cherished.

As your eyes scanned the now-empty classroom, you noticed one child still lingering by the front door, Elajah looking small and vulnerable. He often sat there, waiting patiently for his father, a habit that tugged at your heartstrings.

Setting your broom down beside Petra's, you walked over to him and knelt beside the little boy. "He'll pick you up soon," you reassured him gently.

Elajah nodded, but his expression was clouded with worry. He clutched his backpack tightly, his small fingers gripping the fabric as if it were a lifeline. With a tentative voice, he murmured, "I don’t want to see Papa sad anymore. He’s been rough, and he’s always tired. I see him not taking care of himself."

Your heart ached at his words. You pulled him into a comforting hug, feeling the weight of his fears. "It’s okay, kiddo. Your Papa is going through a tough time, but he will take care of himself someday. Sometimes, we all hit rough patches." you whispered, hoping to soothe his troubled thoughts.

He nodded, pressing his head against your chest. You could feel the warmth of tiny tears soaking through your shirt as he sniffled softly. This was a familiar scene—Elajah often let his emotions spill when he awaited his father, his young heart burdened by the echoes of his parents' fights and the harsh words that still haunted him. You wished there was more you could do to help him navigate through such a heavy load at such a tender age.

He pulled away, wiping his tears with his chubby cheeks, and nodded earnestly. His large, innocent eyes met yours, and he offered a small smile, showcasing his gapped front teeth. Elijah had inherited so many of Levi's features, and you couldn’t help but smile back at the little boy. "Thank you for always being with me. I’m sorry I cried so much, Teacher." he said, his voice quivering slightly.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s perfectly fine, Elijah. You can always express how you feel.” Just as you were comforting him, the sound of a car pulling up interrupted your moment. You glanced over to see Levi stepping out of his vehicle.

The transition was immediate; Elijah hugged you tightly for a brief moment before dashing toward his father. Levi knelt down to embrace his son, their connection palpable even from a distance. However, as he straightened up and walked towards you, your gaze sharpened on Levi's troubled expression. He was scratching his nape, his eyes cast downward in a way that signaled distress.

Your heart raced with concern. “Mr. Ackerman, are you alright?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. He shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze lowered as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"No, there’s nothing wrong, I—" Levi hesitated, his lips pressing together as he took a long sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before saying your name softly, which sent a flutter through your chest.

When he finally looked up at you, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that took you by surprise.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked, the words tumbling out, each syllable heavy with meaning.

Your heart skipped a beat, and heat rushed to your face as you momentarily lost your breath. All your worries and anxious thoughts about him crumbled away in that instant. His words weren't just casual; they were genuine and heartfelt.

Petra and the others had been right—he was indeed smitten with you, and there you were, obliviously caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

"I would love that, Mr. Ackerman," you replied softly, your voice almost a whisper. A small smile spread across Levi's face.

"Please, just Levi," he corrected, waving his hand dismissively but with a playful glint in his eyes.

Just then, Levi shifted his head to glance over your shoulder, and when you turned around, you were met with the sight of Petra, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld, clapping and cheering in unison. They had been observing your interaction from a distance, and you hadn’t even noticed!

“Wait, ho—hold on!" you stammered, still processing the surprise.

“Mr. Ackerman knew we gathered behind your back and watched you both. He didn't tell you!" Petra giggled, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

You shot Levi an incredulous look, but he simply let out a small chuckle, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Oh, this man.

----

Join our discord by @nilfgaardianleviosa

You all welcome, no matter what you ship or what your crazy kinks are

'Neighbor from hell' by MullerMilkshake

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39553266/chapters/99004689

It had a lot of Dark Romance vibes but it didn't play out the way I would've expected, making it a wonderful read! You're gonna wanna READ THE TAGS on this one for sure!

gojo was so tired of being the strongest. so tired of pretending nothing ever got to him.

his body felt like it could break at any moment as he made his way back to his apartment, every step heavier than the last. the mission had been hell. his body hurts in places he didn’t know existed. his usual cocky stride was gone, replaced with a stiffness that made him feel like a damn robot.

when he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see you.

you looked up from the couch, frowning at him. “satoru?”

he blinked slowly, trying to shake off the fog.

“did we have a date planned?” he asked. his voice was rough, barely more than a rasp. he hadn’t messaged you, hadn’t checked his phone—hell—he didn’t even know if he’d eaten in the past few days.

you didn’t get angry like he expected. no eye rolls, no snarky comments, no judgment like his previous relationships. instead you just stood up, and moved towards him with that careful, knowing grace. almost as if you could sense he was about to crumble.

“c’mere.”

he didn’t hesitate, stepping forward until he felt your warmth at his side. you guided him with a steady hand towards the bathroom. in that moment gojo felt as if your touch was the only thing melting him up when all he wanted to do was collapse.

his whole life, people had leaned on him—looked to him for strength. with you he here taking care of him, he felt like is was finally his turn. you treated him like he was human, not some untouchable weapon. and that’s what made him feel like maybe he wasn’t just a tool, maybe he mattered outside of his strength.

summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .

cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.

rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .

“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”

god, you do.

you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

Appetite:

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse:

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault:

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful: 

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal:

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly:

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal:

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous:

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark:

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious:

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy:

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic:

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic:

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp:

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded 

Heated:

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger:

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry:

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense:

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid:

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe:

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan:

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving:

(exciting,) affecting, effective  arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need:

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain: 

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful:

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted: 

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile 

Pleasurable:

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure:

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven 

Rapacious:

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture:

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid:

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden:

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust:

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck:

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback 

Torment:

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch:

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap 

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet:

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked:

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe: 

01 : Paradise 02

Note|| This follows mostly canon with some timeline changes, including starting before s1. If you see any spelling mistakes, cringe lines or anything that seems off PLEASE let me know as I am on a journey to fiercely improve my writing. ALSO, I hate "Y/N" so I have done my best to make it 'X reader' friendly, while banishing that god awful term. Other fanfiction writers inspired me to do this! Don't worry, it is still reader friendly. I'd just like to say I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading this. I have finished 50% as I'm writing this, and It is looking to be a good few chapters. But it is a SLOW burn, as I enjoy writing tension ;)

Themes|| Slowburn, Angst, Enemies (?) to Lovers, Titan Reader, Eventual smut, Slight gore !!. Warnings||Mentions of blood, swearing

Summary|| You're cursed with a hidden Titan and join the Scouts, desperate to find a cure. As you grow closer to Levi, the fear of losing control-and the love you never wanted-threatens to tear you apart.

───────✧❁✧───────

Paradis was a beautifully tragic land. Such a large learning opportunity for humanity, a possibility to help bring more culture to the world. But, as the world is, it will shun those who are different. Blaming their ancestors for the generalized hate of such a large group of people. People who don't even know what their ancestors did. History buried between the walls that separated the classes.

Put any group of human into any space and they will create a society, an unfair concept that will benefit only the highest bidder. What made it sadder , was the fact they had no idea how much beauty they could escape to if they just knew the truth.

People on the outside had an idea of their history, but leaders alike enjoyed being the victim in the stories. So, nothing would ever be a fact. Not in your eyes at least. Nationalism ran through the veins of everyone in your community, but not your family.

Fortunately, once in a blue moon, someone is born with a brain capable of conscious thought. Your father was a scientist, a teacher, a believer in our Earth. Reading books rather than newspaper headlines. That knowledge was passed onto you, learning everything you could about your ancestors. However, books wasn't all that you had in your possession. Your families Eldian bloodline carried something much more valuable. A titan.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

Clouds lurked in the skies across the island, threatening to spill water for miles. It had been weeks since they had consistent rainfall, so it was long overdue. But , as these things do, it had chosen a terrible time to quench their thirst.

Seconds since the small rainstorm had emerged, water hitting the grass had turned into a horrifying crimson. Fallen soldiers had their graves dug for them as the mud began to eat away at their bodies and absorbing them back into the earth. Pieces of shattered metal and broken bits of gear littered the ground for miles, having been discarded or torn from their users. The silence was eerie and fleeting.

Levi’s gas was running low, his mind feeling as if it wasn’t functioning properly. Hooks clung onto the trees around him as the air took his body along with it. Zipping around to every titan he could reach and prioritizing the ones that had grabbed a scout into their soulless hands.

“Get to your horse and head for Commander Erwins squad!” He would call out, repeating Erwins request for an immediate retreat.

There wasn’t enough time for him to save everyone, forcing the anger and grief into the pits of his heart for every soldier he failed. But there was two in particular that would kick him in the head for as long as he may live.

Farlan and Isobel.

He found Farlan first when the battle seemed to be over. For the time being.

Looking the same as every other fallen comrade, the only difference being Levi knew his story. His secrets. Half his corpse had been disregarded like the mud that was turned up around him.

Levi’s body collapsed with despair. The only lives he truly cared for on that battle field where dead due to his inability to save them. Isobel’s remains could be made out, not far from Farlans. Her recognizable pigtails stood out on her dismembered head. A look of pure terror and agony engraved on her face, and now into Levi’s mind forever. He couldn’t even bring himself to salute their efforts, nor could he find the strength to pick himself up. Allowing his body to bathe in the rain and blood like a punishment, he parted his lips to release all the air trapped in his lungs. Wishing that he didn’t have to retake another breath, like his friends that relied on him to return.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

You had arrived in Paradis a couple days prior. Amazed by the beach you landed at, no signs of a human presence - just pristine nature. There was no dock for the boat to stop at, so you were forced into the freezing waters below to reach the shore. The captain gave you a concerned look as your body hit the water, like you where some crazy imbecile with a death wish. Maybe you were

The harsh journey had massively tested your faith in yourself, armed with nothing more than a few journals and a small knife that could be mistaken as a box cutter. Though, you were in possession of a rather powerful creature, but there hadn’t been any time for you to use it yet. You where scared, to say the least. So, you buried it and decided to only travel during the night. Despite the power you held, the sight of charging titans remained terrifying and unforgettable.

The day the rain fell, you had decided it could be a good opportunity for you to gain some ground. The titans weren’t completely dormant, but slow enough for you to evade them. They weren’t too concentrated this far away from the walls, anyway.

The heavier the rain got, the more of your vision was obstructed. The trees scattered around you became denser further ahead and you decided that was your best option for the time being.

Sounds of rain waterlogging patches of grass around you wasn’t enough to mask the cries or screams that echoed deeper into the forest. It sent the hairs on your arms into a stand when they went completely silent. It took you off guard, forcing you to a halt. Making sure you hadn’t hallucinated the audio.

Metal clanging, the snapping of bones, tearing of flesh. It all became more apparent the longer you listened.

You had failed to notice the pair of eyes burning into the side of your face as you stood in the small clearing. Groaning, he caught your attention. Using all of his remaining energy to make a noise loud enough for you to hear. He sat against a tree, missing the whole lower half of his body. Yet, he was breathing at a steady pace and blinking like he was communicating in morse code. “Help them.. Please” His voice croaked, blood spilling from his parted lips and down his green cloak.

Shifting his head to the left, it looked like he was pointing with his eyes. You followed his gaze to a shiny sword looking weapon sat a few meters away. You left to pick it up, glancing back to him. Contemplating if there was anything you could do to make his last moments any less traumatizing. Considering his situation, he appeared at peace with his life ending. Just mindlessly and patiently sat, awaiting for it to end.

The metal rattled in your hands as you pushed forward, shaking with a mixture on fear and stress. Not knowing what you had fallen into. You hadn’t noticed the heartbeat in your ears till it suddenly stopped, eyes falling on the largest titan you’ve seen yet. Half its body hidden behind a red wood tree, the rain distorting its face as it’s next victim grew closer to its stretched mouth.

Desperate pleas for help haunted you, forcing your body into action without your minds consent. You wanted to shut your eyes, to fall to the ground and wake up in a warm bed, but you couldn’t. The adrenaline caught your focus and you felt yourself sprinting towards the titans feet. Letting the blade sink into the back of its ankle, watching as a large sliver of its skin had flown across the air.

Before it had a chance to turn, you gave the second foot the same treatment. Slicing any important tendons it may have had, it collapsed. The soldier in it’s hand finding an opening to wriggle free and shoot a hook into a branch above him, flying around the fallen titan to grab you.

You couldn’t help but let out a yelp as the ground disappeared below you.

The two of you stumbled onto the branch he landed on. Exhaustion forcing him to fall into the trunk of the tree, clutching at the sides of his rips in pain, and sliding down into a sitting position.

“Thanks. Thank you” He coughed out, shaking his head in an attempt to remain conscious.

You ignored the comment, holding onto cracks in the bark for your life as you peered at the ground below you. “We are really high”

When there was no response, you turned to see him fast asleep.

Around half an hour passed before he finally stirred. Having spent the time in a staring competition with the titan below you, the one you had just escaped from. Its arms stretched towards you, too close to your perch on the branch. Its body remaining as still as it could manage, almost like it thought it could lure you down. Without blinking once in the entire half an hour, it began to get to you, mouth stretched wide to invite you to fall in. You were too scared to move in case it could jump or something ridiculous like that.

“Shit. It wasn’t a bad dream” The man had woken himself up when his head fell from it’s position and jolted his body forward.

The skies where still sickened with grey clouds, and the rain had began to irritate your skin, but at least you could see further in front of you.

The man winced behind you in an attempt to move into a comfier position. “Miche”

You turned to him with an eyebrow raised. Did he have a concussion? Why was he making weird noises?

“The names Miche” He repeated, offering you a small smile. “What’s the name of my savior then, huh?” You replied with your name, trying to smile back, but too distracted by the titan below you.

That familiar sound of gear whirring through the air tore your eyes to the canopies above you. You could see a figure dancing through the tree lines, but it was shifting around the skies too quickly for you to get a decent look.

“Here he is, coming to save the day” Miche laughed weakly behind you, wincing soon behind. In the time it took you to look behind you, the culprit had landed in between the two of you. His eyes falling to you for a fleeting moment, before turning to his injured comrade.

“Glad to see you alive, rookie” Miche grabbed the hand offered to him and groaned as he climbed to his feet. Hunched over when he finally made it.

“Who's the girl?” The man shot back, his voice was intimidating.

“She saved me, Levi”

You now had a name to the face, as he shot around to look at you. Trying to comprehend how the hell a civilian got this far from the walls, and without even a scratch.

“Who are you?” He repeated, ignoring what Miche had told him.

You stared for a moment, unsure of what to say without setting him off further. His eyes narrowed at you, imprinting you into his mind like you where the subject of a wanted poster.

When the silence became too much to bare, Miche had managed to balance himself and grip back onto the handles of his equipment. “Suppose you’re gonna help me down?”

“I’ve cleared the titans in this area, you should be fine getting down” Levi shook his head with frustration, a sadness in his eyes that he seemed to be trying his best to hide.

Miche nodded, looking off into the distance. “I’m in no shape to carry her down, guess I’ll see you down there” and with that, he was gone.

You watched as he disappeared behind some trees in the distance, his grunting and groaning fading along with him. Feeling the anxiety build up in your chest as you could feel Levi’s eyes land on you again.

“What? You mute?”

The question grounded you again. “Marigold” You blurted out, feeling stupid afterwards, but repeating it again with your first name. Watching as his eyes moved from you to the ground below you.

A hook shot into a branch above you and he had swung around to grab you under his arm. Knocking all of the air out of you in the process.

The awkward position allowed for you to feel every jolt and movement he made, making for a very unpleasant journey back down. The sight of how high you where made you queasy, forcing you to shut your eyes until you felt the sweet ground below you.

“Get up, we need to get back before more of those freaks come back” Levi moved onto his horse, grabbing the reins into his hands as he waited for you.

Miche appeared from the fog, having found his horse after screaming its name for a minute straight. Beginning to trot ahead. You moved from the mud, shaking it off your hands as you made your way towards Levi’s horse. Using the hand he had offered you to throw yourself round behind him. No more words were exchanged. You lightly held onto his waist, finding yourself hardening your grip as he sped through the crimson fields behind Miche. Taking in the scene that was now behind you, knowing it would forever be engrained into your mind.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

Scenery inside the walls was a huge contrast to the conditions you were just subjected to. Rocky paths lined with beautifully constructed wooden houses, all different from the next. Though, all sharing a similar red washed roof. Clearly being what this society would class as a poor village, from the clothes of the civilians littering the street, you thought it was more visually stunning than anything you had seen back at home. The freshness in the breeze was enough for you to fall in love.

The ride to wall rose was silent, so when you entered with the rest of the returning scouts to a loud cheer, you had been drawn in from your daydream. However, it didn’t remain cheerful. Broken sobs could be distinguished between the grateful shouts, begging for their fathers, children, or sisters to return home. Soon to be met with the fact that they never would.

The only people you had the displeasure of interacting with from that point on was an arrogant group from the military police, who had taken you off Levi’s hands when you arrived at a large castle like structure. Something told you he would be back.

They had a lot to say about you, none of it to your face or even including you for that matter. They disregarded you into a cell below the building. Away from everyone and everything.

Oil lamps flickered in the small hallway outside your cell, offering a dim but warm light. Making you somewhat sleepy. Highlighting the rusted surface of the bars that contained you. The Prison you had been left in wasn’t as dirty as you’d expect, but it still wasn’t ideal. The bedding was neatly made, with minimal stains shown for, and the sink that sat in the corner had minor water damage along the seals that held it to the wall.

Your attention was drawn to the stairs in the corner of the hall as footsteps began to fall down them. Revealing Lev when he reached the bottom, moving towards you in your cell. His small frame stood straight, disciplines, but his face remained void of emotion. His eyes fell to various points in the chamber you sat in, flashing with disgust.

“Lets make this quick, I don’t want to overstay my welcome down here” He pulled up a wooden chair from behind him and sat down, crossing a leg over the other.

You remained silent, studying his features as the warm light hit his cold expression.

“What were you doing outside the walls?” He was straightforward and to the point, and he let you ponder your answer for a moment.

“I was conducting my own research on the titans” you grit your teeth and looked down to the ground, fiddling with your fingers. He hummed, almost unsatisfied with the answer.

“Research, huh?” He raised an eyebrow towards you. “So, what’s your big discovery? That they have the capability to be reasoned with?”

He mocked you, and that frustrated you. Knowing your knowledge dug deeper than any of these imbeciles could comprehend, but that was not your focus. You needed a way into the scouts, and Levi seemed to be your open door.

“What my research has accomplished in a week, yours hasn’t in a year, plus the hundreds of casualties”

Levi rolled his eyes , moving a hand to rub his temple as if it would ease the headache that was you. “You expect me to believe that? You, out there, alone, in the middle of titan territory just… gathering data? That’s a pretty bold claim”

He got up from his chair to move towards the rusted bars that separated the two of you, refusing to get close enough to touch it. “If that was the case, why wouldn’t you have reported your findings before?”

“I may not be a scout, or anyone important, but I know what I’m doing. I’ve been studying titans for years from a distance. Any piece of research that exists, I’ve read. I just thought…” your voice lowered, almost pleading for him to believe you, but trying to keep the story intact. “I wanted to make sure I could prove something by seeing them up close, maybe get some hard evidence on my theories.”

His eyebrow twitched, somewhat unconvinced, but he remains silent for a moment, scrutinizing your every word. He walks slowly along the length of the cell, stopping near the corner where he turns back to face you.

“Please, just look at my journals. Everything is there” You begged, moving to the bars to catch his eye.

“We’ve already read them. That’s why I’m here and not someone from the military.”

“You have?” A flicker of panic appears behind your eyes, fluttering it away. Levi moved towards you, nodding, his gaze unwavering.

“Every word. Everything lines up with what we’ve seen of the titans. the patterns, the behavior…” he watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. “You’ve managed to do all of this without the appropriate resources”

“So… you believe me?” You tried to gather yourself, standing up straight to show a little confidence. Before it is immediately knocked back down.

“I wouldn’t say that. Your story is weak, but your research is promising.”

You stared up at him. Barely understanding what he was saying. He already knew you had information on the titans, so why bother asking? Its like he was waiting for you to slip up, like he knows your secret. Or perhaps he just wasn’t a very trusting person.

“I have one more question” He spoke up again, his body turned away from you as he headed back to the stairs. Taking your silence as a nod to continue. “How are you still alive? The only weapon you had on you was the smallest knife I think I’ve ever seen.”

Sighing, you moved towards the bed. Falling backwards onto it as your legs flew in the air. “The titan in the forest was the only one I came across, sir. I wasn’t out there for long. I got lucky, I guess” You lied through your teeth, hoping your tone would roll off casually. He seemed convinced, or maybe not. It was hard to tell.

Without another word, he began his ascent up the stairs. You let out a heavy breath when you heard the door slam above you. It was over. But, what now?

☪︎—age gap, mean teasing satoru, dumbification, overstimulation, possessiveness, creampie, he’s too good at sex, established relationship

"sex with older! Satoru can't be too bad right..?"

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Satoru murmurs, palm flat against the arch of your back as he pushes in again, slow and deep like he’s trying to ruin you.

You whimper into the pillow, drooling into his sheets with your lashes soaked, mascara smeared all under your eyes. You don’t even care anymore, because all you can feel is him.

He’s big—too big. Always has been. The kind of stretch that makes you see stars when he first slides in, the kind of pleasure that’s way past your limit ten minutes in. But he doesn’t let up. He likes seeing how far you can take it, how stupid and ruined and pliant he can get you.

“‘Toru!" you cry again

“Aww. Can’t even talk right now, baby?” His voice is smooth and a little cruel, and he reaches around to grab your throat, not hard—just enough to make your little brain stutter. “What happened to all that attitude you had earlier, hm?”

You blink, dumb and empty, drool sliding from your mouth when he pulls you up just a little by your neck, whispering right into your ear.

“God, you’re so cute like this. So fucked-out already and I’m not even close to done.” His hips snap hard and you squeal, whole body jolting forward.

Satoru loves this part. Not the way you take him—that’s a given, he knew from day one that no one could ever make you feel the way he does—but the way you fold. Act like a brat all week,always tease him about the gray in his hair or the way he groans when he sits too long… and yet here you are, crying into his mattress because he’s fucking you dumb.

“This is what happens,” he pants, hand fisting in your hair now, pulling your head back so he can see your face in the mirror. “When you act like you don’t know what this dick does to you.”

Your eyes roll. He knows how good he is at sex. The worst part is that he doesn’t even have to try—he’s confident, cocky, and has more experience than any guy your age could dream of. He knows exactly where to touch, how to angle his hips, when to slow down or speed up.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” Satoru breathes, and now his hand’s between your legs again, his fingers rubbing tight little circles over your clit. “Needed me to fuck the brat outta you.”

Your whole body seizes when he hits that spot again, that perfect spot that only he can reach, and you choke on your sob as you cum around him for what feels like the third—no, fourth time tonight. You’re not even sure anymore. Everything’s hazy, glossy, soaked in heat and tears and the loud slap of skin and his voice in your ear.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, holding your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You nod, still crying, still moaning, still grinding helplessly into his cock because you don’t even know how to stop.

“You wanna be my dumb little girl forever, huh?”

You nod again, sob out something that sounds like “yes, yes, ‘toru, please,” and he snaps.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groans, burying himself deep, so deep, and your nails claw into the sheets as his cock twitches inside you. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, yeah? Show everyone what happens when you act like a slut around me.”

The Burning Sky

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51656674

!! S1 57th Expedition Outside the Walls SPOILERS !!

݁ ˖ִ ࣪ HQ was quiet. Outside the window, it looked as if someone had set fire to the sky. Levi wished it had been him. Inside, the dust that flew and caught the light of the setting sun could've been ash. God, it was filthy in here. Nobody had cleaned the place in years, but despite his disgust, he couldn't exactly be surprised; the castle hadn't been in commission for years now, and there wasn't much of a point in taking a feather duster to the abandoned, forgotten library. That didn't totally destroy his temptation to do so, however.

Instead, he was sitting in the one place he had brushed off - a cushioned chair by the window, a refuge amongst the dust. From this angle, only the tips of trees and spires of the castle were visible at the bottom of the glass. The rest was just burning sky. ‧₊˚

Appetite:

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse:

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault:

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful: 

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal:

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly:

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal:

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous:

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark:

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious:

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy:

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic:

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic:

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp:

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded 

Heated:

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger:

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry:

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense:

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid:

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe:

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan:

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving:

(exciting,) affecting, effective  arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need:

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain: 

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful:

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted: 

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile 

Pleasurable:

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure:

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven 

Rapacious:

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture:

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid:

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden:

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust:

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck:

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback 

Torment:

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch:

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap 

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet:

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked:

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe: 

levi ackerman x reader

“When was the last time you ate?”

His voice cut through the thick silence of the forest, reverberating between the towering trees. The flickering campfire cast long shadows between you, the scent of burning pine filling your lungs. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and expectant, but you refused to meet it.

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Only the crackling flames and the rustling of the wind through the branches dared to break the quiet. It could have been a peaceful evening.

Could have been.

If not for the dark red stains soaking your uniform. If not for the hollow ache settling deep in your stomach.

You kept your eyes locked on the fire, unwilling to look at him, unwilling to speak. He didn’t need to know the last time you ate was eleven hours ago—under the morning sun, surrounded by the voices of your comrades. Comrades who were gone now. Gone because you failed them just three hours prior.

A sigh escaped him, quiet but weighted. His gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned away.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him rise and stride toward the horses. He disappeared behind them, the sound of rummaging breaking the uneasy stillness. When he returned, he carried a handful of supplies. You didn’t pay attention. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the horrors of the day.

It had been a simple mission—routine, predictable. Your squad had cleared that perimeter dozens of times before. So why had this time been different? Where had the Titans come from? Why were they so aggressive?

“Stop thinking about it.”

His voice pulled you back. This time, you were grateful for the interruption. You wanted to say something—anything—to acknowledge it. To thank him. But the words never came.

Failure had followed you all day. It still clung to you now.

Instead, you forced yourself to look at him. For the first time that night, your eyes met his. There was no reprimand in his gaze, no expectation. Just quiet understanding.

He didn’t need you to say anything.

Wordlessly, he turned back to the cooking pot, stirring its contents with a slow, deliberate motion.

Your thoughts drifted again, but this time, they led somewhere less cruel. Back to him. Back to the moment he saved you. The moment he tore you from the jaws of a fifteen-meter Titan before it could crush the life from you. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d risked himself to save you.

Why?

He was humanity’s strongest soldier. His life meant more than yours ever could. You weren’t even the strongest in your squad. Others had fallen that day—soldiers who were more skilled, more deserving. So why you?

“Here.”

His voice snapped you back to the present once more.

This time, he stood directly in front of you, hands outstretched, a steaming bowl of stew nestled in his grip. The rich aroma hit you instantly, and your stomach twisted in response.

You reached for it, trying to remain composed, but your hunger betrayed you. You nearly snatched it from his hands, fingers tightening around the warmth.

You expected him to return to his spot across the fire.

You didn’t expect him to sit beside you.

For a moment, you didn’t move.

The fire crackled between you, its light dancing across his face, casting sharp shadows that softened just enough around the edges. He wasn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his attention was on his own bowl, fingers curled loosely around the rim, spoon resting inside.

You hesitated.

It wasn’t unusual for your captain to be near. He had always been a presence—watchful, commanding, never too far out of reach. But this? Sitting beside you instead of across the fire? It was different. Unfamiliar.

And yet, you didn’t question it.

Not when exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Not when the scent of the stew in your hands made your stomach twist painfully.

You lifted the spoon to your lips, the warmth of the broth hitting your tongue, and for the first time that night, the tension in your chest loosened. The meal was simple—thick with chunks of potato and meat, seasoned just enough to make it feel like more than just rations. Under any other circumstances, you might have eaten slowly, savoring each bite.

Tonight, you had no such patience.

You ate with quiet desperation, barely pausing between bites, ignoring the way your hands shook slightly with each movement. Hunger made the world narrow—made the throbbing in your skull dull, made the ache in your chest momentarily tolerable.

He didn’t say anything.

Not about the way you devoured the food. Not about the exhaustion clinging to your every movement. He just ate in silence beside you, his presence steady, grounding.

Minutes passed.

The tension in your body gradually eased.

For the first time since the mission fell apart, since you lost your squad, you felt something other than grief. It wasn’t comfort, not exactly, but it was something close.

Warmth.

Not just from the fire.

Not just from the food.

From him.

From the way he sat beside you, close enough that the edges of your cloaks brushed, close enough that if you turned your head just slightly, you’d see the way his eyes flickered in the firelight.

Your spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl before you realized you had finished. The heat in your hands vanished too quickly, leaving them feeling empty.

You exhaled.

A long, slow breath.

The first real one you’d taken all night.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The fire crackled, the wind rustled through the trees, the night stretched on.

Then—

“You should get some rest.”

It was a quiet command, one that left no room for argument. Not that you had the strength to argue anyway.

You glanced at him.

He had already set his bowl aside, his gaze once again locked on the flames. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way he said it. Something that wasn’t just an order from a captain to a soldier.

Something that felt like concern.

You swallowed.

Nodded.

He didn’t move when you shifted, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself, adjusting until the fire’s heat was at your back. He didn’t move when you let your eyes slip shut, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

But you felt it—

The weight of his presence.

A silent assurance.

A reminder that, for tonight at least, you weren’t alone.

Sleep did not come easily.

Despite the warmth of the fire, despite the heavy exhaustion pressing into your bones, your mind refused to quiet. Images of the battle bled into the darkness behind your eyes—flashes of red, the sound of bones crunching, the screams. You saw them fall again and again, the weight of your failure curling in your chest like a vice.

Your breath hitched.

You turned onto your side, pulling your cloak tighter, hoping the fabric would be enough to keep the memories at bay. It wasn’t.

A shift beside you.

You barely noticed it at first, too lost in your own thoughts. But then, a presence—closer than before. A subtle weight draped over you, rough fabric brushing your cheek.

Your captain’s cloak.

You blinked, the reality of the moment grounding you. The fire had burned lower, its embers glowing faintly, casting a softer light around the camp. He hadn’t moved far—just enough to drape the extra layer over you.

Your fingers curled into the thick material. It was warm. Carried his scent—faint traces of leather and steel and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed hard.

He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t even acknowledged what he had done. But when you turned your head just slightly, your eyes found his—open, alert, watching the perimeter. Always watching.

Guarding.

Not just the camp.

You.

The realization settled deep, replacing some of the cold inside you with something quieter. Something steadier.

You should say something. Thank him. Acknowledge the gesture. But your throat felt tight, your voice useless, and all you could manage was the smallest movement—your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the cloak.

Morning came, quiet and subdued, slipping through the cracks between the trees without color or warmth. You didn’t notice it at first—not through the thick branches overhead or the haze of half-sleep clouding your thoughts.

It was the shift of your own body, the subtle ache in your limbs as you adjusted your position, that brought you back to full awareness. That—and the presence beside you.

You turned your head slowly.

Levi.

He was right there, just inches away, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed, shoulders no longer rigid with tension. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the stillness of the forest.

He was asleep.

Truly asleep.

It struck you how strange that was. You had fought beside him long enough to know he never really let his guard down, never rested unless absolutely forced to. And yet here he was—silent, still, undisturbed by the sounds of the forest waking around you.

Peaceful.

The word echoed softly in your mind, and it felt almost foreign when attached to him. But it was the only one that fit. Without the weight of command furrowing his brow, without the sharp focus that always narrowed his eyes in battle, Levi looked almost…

Human.

You swallowed the lump that rose in your throat.

You didn’t move, didn’t dare shift any closer or further away. You knew if you made even the slightest sound, he’d snap awake—alert, distant, buried behind that wall he always kept between himself and everyone else.

He deserved this.

After what he endured yesterday—after watching his squad mates be torn apart or eaten. After fighting tooth and nail to survive, and then risking his life to save you.

He deserved this moment of stillness.

You looked away, your gaze drifting back to the dying embers of the campfire. The cloak he’d draped over you was still there, wrapped tight around your shoulders. It carried his warmth. His scent. A quiet comfort that steadied the thoughts trying to unravel in your head.

You exhaled, slow and silent.

No nightmares had come for you in the end. Not while he sat beside you. Not with him keeping watch long after his own body should have collapsed.

Maybe you could do the same now.

Just for a little while.

So you stayed still, letting the morning pass unnoticed above you, letting the silence stretch as long as it needed. For him. For both of you.

The sun had climbed high—nearing its peak—by the time Levi stirred.

You felt it before you saw it: the subtle shift in his body, the way his muscles tensed all at once, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Instinct, no doubt. The product of years spent on battlefields where waking meant survival, and sleep was a luxury rarely afforded.

Reflexes honed by a lifetime of war.

His hand twitched slightly, almost reaching for the blade that wasn’t strapped to his side. Old habits—etched deep into muscle memory. You didn’t move, just watched quietly as his eyes blinked open, sharp and alert despite the rest he’d just had.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His gaze swept the forest with that same cold precision you’d seen a hundred times before—scanning for threats, calculating exits, noting every sound. It was as if sleep had never touched him.

Then his eyes flicked to you.

Whatever tension still lingered in his shoulders seemed to ease—just slightly—when he saw you awake, unharmed, still wrapped in his cloak.

“You’re still breathing,” he said flatly, voice gravelly with sleep.

It was the closest thing to a good morning you’d ever get from him.

You offered a faint nod, unsure if your voice was ready yet. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, and then reached for the empty pot beside the fire. Cold now.

“We’ll need to move soon,” he said, as if the moment of quiet had never happened. His tone was back to its usual clipped command, but there was something softer beneath it. Barely there, like an echo.

You weren’t sure if he was speaking as your captain. Or as something else.

But either way, you sat up too. The silence between you was no longer heavy. Just quiet. Familiar.

And somehow, that made it easier to face the day.

Not a word passed between you as the two of you broke down camp. The fire was stomped out, supplies packed with practiced efficiency. When it was time to move, Levi mounted his horse without hesitation, taking the lead as he always did.

You followed behind, the quiet rhythm of hooves against earth doing little to settle the storm in your head.

It felt like your skull might split open.

Too much had happened. Too fast.

The loss of your squad still clung to you like a second skin. The image of your bunkmate—your best friend—falling, screaming, disappearing beneath a titan’s hand played on repeat behind your eyes.

And then there was Levi.

Pulling you from the jaws of death.

Watching over you while you fell apart.

Taking care of you when you couldn’t take care of yourself.

The weight of it all pressed in on your temples, sharp and relentless. You lowered your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, trying to will the pain away.

But it stayed.

A dull, throbbing reminder that no matter how far you rode, you couldn’t outrun yesterday.

And as if the universe hadn’t done enough, the stench hit you like a punch to the face.

The thick, metallic scent of blood and rotting flesh invaded your senses, turning your stomach and nearly knocking you off balance. You instinctively raised a hand to your mouth, but it did nothing to block it out.

Then you saw it.

“Shit…” Levi’s voice was low, sharp with frustration. You barely heard it over the blood pounding in your ears. He pulled hard on his reins, wheeling his horse around to face you.

“Don’t look.”

But it was already too late.

The scene sprawled out just ahead—no more than fifteen feet away. Limbs strewn like discarded toys, torsos torn open and unrecognizable. Blood painted everything.

Leaves soaked red. Branches slick. Even the trunks of trees were streaked with it.

Your eyes flew open, wide, and you knew instantly—your expression was a dead giveaway. Every emotion you’d fought to suppress came crashing to the surface: shock, revulsion, grief. It was all scrawled plainly across your face, unfiltered and raw.

You didn’t need to look at your reflection to know.

Levi’s reaction confirmed it.

He had gone rigid in the saddle, his eyes narrowing in regret. His expression—usually unreadable, cold even—had softened into something different: guilt. A deep, gnawing guilt that sat heavy in his voice as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll go around.”

He was already beginning to shift, to steer his horse toward a detour—trying to spare you the sight, the smell, the memory. A protective reflex, honed not just by instinct but by a growing awareness of your limits.

But you didn’t let him.

“No.”

Your voice cut through the space between you like a drawn blade—firm, immediate, leaving no room for interpretation.

“Going around just makes the trip longer,” you said quietly. “We’ll head back the way we came.”

You knew exactly what that meant.

Retracing your path meant riding straight through the aftermath of yesterday. The broken trees, the shattered gear, the mangled bodies.

But somehow, avoiding it felt worse.

Like pretending it never happened. Like erasing them.

You couldn’t do that.

You owed them this. One last visit. One final goodbye.

“Y/N…” Levi’s voice was low, but there was a weight behind it. He shook his head, eyes locking with yours.

“We’ll go around,” he said, firmer this time. No room for debate.

But you weren’t so sure you could let it go. Not yet.

Your grip on the reins tightened.

He meant well. You knew that. This was his way of protecting you—from the trauma, from the guilt, maybe even from yourself. But shielding you from it wouldn’t change what happened. Wouldn’t bring them back.

Wouldn’t make the silence that followed their screams any less deafening.

“They deserve more than that,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “More than being left behind like… like they were nothing.”

Levi’s jaw tensed. His eyes flicked away for the briefest second, and in that instant, you saw it—beneath the calm, beneath the command: the grief he hadn’t voiced.

“They weren’t nothing,” he said, quiet but sharp.

“Then let me see them one last time.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, unshaken by the breeze or the morning birdsong. You didn’t expect him to say yes. You just needed him to understand.

Levi exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping to the forest floor before rising to meet yours again. His eyes—so often cold—held something softer now. Something tired.

He didn’t argue this time.

He just gave a single, reluctant nod.

And without another word, you nudged your horse forward—toward the blood-soaked trees, the shattered ground, and the ghosts you weren’t ready to let go of just yet.

Levi followed. Not leading, not ordering. Just riding quietly behind.

The closer you got, the harder it became to breathe.

The forest felt different now—hollow, haunted. The birds had stopped singing, the air was still, and every step your horse took sounded too loud, like it was disturbing something sacred.

And maybe it was.

The path ahead, once familiar and routine, now looked like a graveyard. Scattered gear lay half-buried in the dirt, cloaks torn and fluttering weakly in the breeze. The trees bore the marks of chaos—deep gouges, broken limbs, blood smeared like war paint.

Your eyes caught something billowing in the wind. And you slid off your horse without thinking. Your legs felt numb, like they didn’t quite belong to you anymore, but they carried you forward.

“Y/N…” Levi warned.

You didn’t reply. Your gaze focused ahead.

A scarf. No, not any scarf. The scarf your bunkmate always wore, now hanging from a low branch like it had been gently placed there.

Your throat tightened.

Reaching out, your hands untangled the fabric from the tree and held it close to your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

The words trembled on your lips, but they were all you had. You didn’t have the strength to say more.

Behind you, Levi stood silently. He hadn’t dismounted, hadn’t said a word since you entered the clearing. But you felt him there. Watching. Guarding. Grieving, in his own quiet way.

You wondered if he was seeing the faces too.

The ones you both failed to bring home.

After a while, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating. It was still heavy, still cruel—but there was something grounding about it. Like the forest itself was mourning with you.

You wrapped the scarf carefully around your neck, the fabric coarse but achingly familiar. As the scent rose—faint, but unmistakably hers—it hit you like a blow to the chest.

She was gone, but the smell still lingered. Like she was just out of reach. Like if you turned around fast enough, you’d see her smiling. Laughing. Alive.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I want to take her back.”

Your gaze swept over the clearing, scanning every inch, desperate for a glimpse—of her gear, her body, anything that was hers.

But before your foot even took a step, Levi was there. He slid off his horse in one smooth motion and stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“You can’t,” he said firmly.

Your eyes met his, sharp and burning, your grief barely held behind them.

Something in your stare must’ve struck him—your pain, your resolve, your refusal to let go. But he didn’t flinch. His expression was calm, unreadable.

And unmovable.

It was a silent battle.

You attempted to push past him, but his hands shot out, firm and unyielding, gripping your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low but commanding.

You froze, breath catching.

“I can’t just leave her here,” you rasped.

His grip didn’t loosen, but something in his eyes shifted. The steel in them wavered, just enough for you to see the weight he carried on his own shoulders.

“You have to.” He said, softer now. “We don’t have the cargo space.”

The words hit you harder than expected.

“She was my best friend, Levi.”

“Listen,” he said gently, his hands sliding from your shoulders down to your arms—just enough to soften his hold. It wasn’t restraint anymore. It was something closer to an embrace.

“What’s left of her…” he paused, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “It’s not something you need to see.”

There was no coldness in his tone. No command.

Only care. And grief he was too used to carrying.

You looked away, jaw clenched, a fresh ache blooming in your chest. You felt the tears sting your eyes.

“I promised I’d bring her home.”

You shrugged out of his hold, the warmth of his touch slipping away as you pushed past him and stepped into the wreckage.

Your boots crunched over debris—broken blades, shredded gear, shattered bones. You dropped to your knees, shoving aside branches, lifting scraps of bloodstained fabric, scanning every face, every ruin of what once was.

It was chaos. A silent, desperate kind. You were a blur of motion in the middle of devastation, clinging to hope like it was the only thing keeping you breathing.

Levi stood a few paces behind, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. Your defiance grated at him—sharp, impulsive, dangerous.

But he understood.

He knew grief like this. Knew what it did to people.

Still, he couldn’t let you spiral. Not after everything. Not after risking his life to pull you from the jaws of death. He hadn’t fought that hard to keep you alive just to watch you fall apart in the aftermath.

“Y/N,” he called out, voice low but edged. “That’s enough.”

But you kept going. Searching. Hoping. Breaking.

Your fingers were numb—whether from the cold or from the shock, you couldn’t tell. Dirt caked under your nails as you clawed through the remains, lifting pieces of gear that no longer had names, faces, or stories attached.

Just fragments.

Bloodstained fabric. A torn jacket. A boot with the laces still knotted the way she always did them.

You froze.

The breath caught in your throat as you reached down, fingers trembling. It was hers. You knew it in an instant. The color, the stitching—too specific to belong to anyone else.

Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, cradling the piece of her like it was all that remained of your world.

Behind you, Levi finally moved. You heard his footsteps crunch across the wreckage, slow and deliberate, before he crouched beside you.

“Y/N,” Levi said your name softly—softer than you’d ever heard it.

Not as your captain. As something else.

You didn’t turn to him. Couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Why me?”

The words barely left your lips, so fragile they almost disappeared into the air. Almost. But not for him. Levi could’ve heard your voice through a battlefield.

Still, he said nothing. He waited.

Because he knew there was more.

But he wasn’t ready for what came next.

“Why me?” you repeated, but this time it cracked—splintered into a sob, raw and jagged. Your fists clenched around the torn fabric in your hands.

“You could’ve saved anyone!” you choked. “Could’ve saved her.”

Your voice broke completely now, trembling with fury and heartbreak.

“She should be here. Not me. Why me?”

Levi looked at you then, eyes shadowed with something unspoken—grief, guilt, or something deeper.

But instead of answering, he turned his back to you.

“We should get moving,” he said flatly. “You saw what you came to see. Now let’s go home.”

Typical. So Levi. Shut it down. Move forward. Pretend like feelings didn’t exist if they couldn’t be used on the battlefield.

But not this time.

“No,” you snapped, rising quickly to your feet, voice sharp and clear. “You owe me an answer.”

He kept walking.

Then you closed the space between you in a few strides.

“Hey!”

You grabbed his shoulder, yanking him to face you.

He turned fast—faster than you expected—and his hands caught your arms before you could shove him. Held you in place. Kept you from falling apart in the way you were begging to.

His grip was tight, unyielding. His eyes locked on yours.

“You want to know why?” he growled, voice low and raw.

There was something different in his tone now—something cracked, like the control he always held so tightly was starting to fray at the edges. You could only manage a nod.

He swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours, his hands still gripping your arms like letting go might break the both of you.

He knew.

He knew exactly why he’d saved you—why, in the middle of chaos and blood and screaming, it was your name he moved toward.

But this wasn’t the moment to say it.

Hell, he wasn’t sure there would ever be a right moment.

So he held it. Buried it.

Just another weight to carry. Another secret he’d take with him to the grave.

Levi didn’t say a word—but he didn’t need to.

His eyes said everything his mouth couldn’t.

There was something there—quiet, unspoken, raw. A softness buried beneath the hardened soldier, just visible enough to make your breath catch.

And in that moment, with him holding you like he wasn’t ready to let go, you couldn’t help but replay the last 24 hours.

It started the moment he yanked you from the titan’s mouth.

Even then, through the haze of panic and pain, you noticed it—something off. He wasn’t his usual composed, razor-focused self. He looked flustered, more tense than you’d ever seen him in combat. His movements were sharp, but scattered. Controlled chaos instead of the usual precision.

And once he’d gotten you to safety, he didn’t immediately charge back into the fight like he always did.

He stayed.

His eyes had scanned you, fast but thorough, hands checking for wounds like he needed to know you were still in one piece.

“Stay here,” he’d said—voice low, leaving no room for protest.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the chaos again. But not before you saw it in his eyes.

Worry.

Real, visible worry.

For you.

Oh.

In that moment, your mouth parted slightly—speechless.

It was like a fog had lifted, and for the first time, the bigger picture came into focus.

All the pieces you hadn’t been able to fit together before now slid perfectly into place. The way he looked at you. The way he held you together. The way he stayed.

It had always been there.

You just hadn’t seen it—

Until now.

As if he could read your thoughts—knew exactly what you’d just realized—Levi let his hands drop from your arms, the space between you settling into silence once more.

Without a word, he turned and climbed back onto his horse, movements sharp and practiced, like slipping back into the version of himself that didn’t let things show.

He met your gaze one last time, expression unreadable.

“Let’s go,” he said simply and flicked his reigns so the horse stepped off.

You scrambled onto your horse, hands still trembling as you gripped the reins.

Without a word, you fell in behind him, the silence stretching between you once more—familiar, but changed.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

But as you followed your captain through the trees, something unspoken passed between you.

And this time, silence didn’t feel like distance.

He’s impossible to move. Heavy and soft, like melting snow. Lanky arms slowly loop tightly around your waist, legs tangling with yours, refusing to let you shift even an inch away. Each time you wiggle, he groans under his breath and clings tighter, like your body is the only thing tethering him to the earth. His nose brushes along your collarbone and soft, pink lips pressing lazy, barely-there kisses to your skin. Not to wake you, not to arouse - just to feel. To ground himself in the softness of you.

Eventually, the weight of responsibility seeps in, but not a welcomed distrubance. He follows you to the bathroom with dragging feet and a petulant pout, still clinging to your waist like a puppy. The moment the water starts, he slumps onto the ledge of the shower with an audible sigh, legs spreading so you can slot yourself between them.

Then he melts.

Face pressed to your chest, his mouth finds the space between your breasts and stays there. His hands roam with worship - over the curve of your back, the softness of your hips, the plush give of your tummy under his palms. Kneading the skin gently, like he’s marveling at every inch, like he can’t quite believe you’re real. The kisses he leaves along your skin are slow, open-mouthed, soaked in affection.

When you reach for the shampoo, he tenses, his touch tightening slightly like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. He looks up at you, white brows furrowed in exhaustion, mouth parted as if he wants to say something but doesn’t have the energy. The only sound is the gentle rush of water and the soft puff of breath as you cup his face, smoothing your thumbs under his tired eyes.

He leans into your hands like they’re the only thing keeping him upright. His whole body relaxes the moment your lips press to his forehead, tension unwinding with a long, sleepy exhale. When you lather his snowy-white hair, his head dips obediently, body going limp as your fingers massage through the strands. A low, contented sound rumbles in his chest - something between a sigh and a purr.

Even then, he doesn’t stop touching you. His hands never stray far, running lazily along your hips, circling your waist, squeezing at your thighs like he needs the constant reminder: you’re here. Soap slips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He’s too tired. Too in love.

You didn't lose him all at once. It happened in pieces.

Gojo Satoru fell first, but you fell harder. You met in the last semester of college, and in no time, you were inseparable. When he asked you to move in with him, you said yes without hesitation.

He loved you—you could feel it. In the way he held your hand, in the way he looked at you like you were something precious. In the way he kissed you, made love to you. He was in awe of you. And when his modeling career took off, you were always by his side.

Gojo was always warm—burning, even. He was the sun itself, blinding in his affection, pulling you into his orbit so completely that you never imagined you'd be left in the cold.

But then, one day, he stopped reaching for you first.

It was subtle at first. The way he didn't say I love you anymore. The way he stopped stealing bites of your food, how he started sleeping facing away from you.

Then came the bigger things. Plans canceled. Calls ignored. Excuses that piled up like dust in an abandoned room.

Other signs followed. His laughter, once so full and bright, didn't quite reach his eyes when you teased him. His fingers, once eager to trace lazy patterns on your skin, hovered just a moment too long before pulling away.

You told yourself it was exhaustion. Work. Stress. The weight of being Gojo Satoru.

Then came the missed calls. The distracted hums when you spoke. The quiet absences stretching longer and longer.

And then—her.

Utahime. His friend.

She was polite the first time you met her. Warm, even. But you saw it in the way Gojo looked at her—the way he used to look at you. You told yourself it was just your imagination. Just your anxiety.

Until it wasn't.

At the celebration for his deal with Balmain, he hugged her—tight, familiar—while you received nothing but a fleeting smile before he was swept away by his team. You wandered through the venue, bumping into his rival, Geto Suguru. He apologized. You gave him a polite nod, but your mind was elsewhere.

The final blow came later that evening.

You had stepped away to the restroom during dinner with his team. When you returned, they hadn't noticed you standing afar off. You had seen Gojo do many things—shatter entire landscapes, command a room with nothing but his presence.

But nothing had ever destroyed you like the sight of his hand tucking a strand of Utahime's hair behind her ear. Like the way he smiled at her—soft, slow—full of something that used to be yours.

But you remembered when it was yours. When he had done that to you, eyes filled with something close to worship.

You couldn't breathe.

You walked back to your seat, picked up your bag, and mumbled an excuse about feeling unwell.

He stood, ready to follow, but you stopped him with a quiet request: Enjoy your party.

And he let you leave.

That night, you called your cousin, Shoko. By morning, your clothes, your belongings—everything that made his apartment feel like home—were gone.

He sent one message.

You never replied.

Weeks bled into each other, and you remained holed up in the small apartment you now shared with Shoko. The outside world felt unbearable—his name, his face, his love story with someone else, splattered across every screen, whispered in every conversation.

Shoko had been patient. But today, her patience wore thin.

"You should go out, Y/N." Her voice cut through the silence like a knife. "It's been three months."

You grunted in response, yanking the covers over your head and turning toward the wall.

She wasn't deterred. "Those books won't write themselves," she said, stepping closer. A moment later, your room was flooded with light as she yanked the curtains open.

You hissed. "You're evil."

"And you're coming to a party tonight."

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. A party? When your heart still ached? When your body still remembered his touch?

But Shoko was relentless. Before you could protest, she had shoved you into a tight dress, pulled your hair into a sleek ponytail, and dragged you out the door.

The party was a blur of music and bodies, loud laughter mixing with the bass thumping through the floor. It wasn't your scene. These were Shoko's people—free-spirited, easygoing.

Your eyes landed on Nanami, his hand resting on Shoko's lower back as she whispered something into his ear. The ease of their love made your stomach twist.

You scoffed, faking a gag before walking away.

At the bar, you reached for a drink—only to misstep.

Strong arms caught you before you could hit the ground.

You barely had time to register the warmth circling your waist before a familiar voice murmured, "This feels like déjà vu."

You looked up.

Suguru Geto.

His gaze was steady, his grip firm but careful. "I stopped seeing you around."

You mustered a weak smile, more out of politeness than anything else.

He didn't press.

Instead, he leaned against the bar, ordering drinks, and somehow, you ended up talking—about nothing, about everything.

He spoke of the modeling world, of fleeting fame, of people who disappeared when the cameras stopped flashing. It should have hurt, should have reminded you of him.

But somehow, as the night stretched on, as laughter slipped from your lips for the first time in months—

You felt something close to peace.

At first, everything still reminded you of Gojo. Every shadow. Every sky-blue color. Every damn time you heard his name in passing.

But slowly—slowly—it faded.

Not all at once. Not even neatly.

But there were good days. And then, more of them.

After you had begun to see Geto more often, you had started to write again. Your editor was back to life, fearing you might disappear just as suddenly as you had before. But this time, your absence wouldn't be a retreat into grief—it would be something softer, something lighter. Something like love.

Your life was falling into place, not all at once, but in a way that felt real. Geto had become a quiet constant, his presence weaving into the fabric of your days like a thread you hadn't noticed was missing.

You had learned him in pieces. The way his eyes closed fully when he laughed, like he was surrendering to the joy of the moment. The way his mouth curled just slightly when he drank his coffee black, like he was letting a secret slip between his lips. The way he watched you write—not just looking, but seeing, understanding something in you that you didn't even have to say aloud.

And then there were the little things. The way he let his hair down, simply because he knew you liked it. The way he called late at night, voice warm and teasing, as if he had nothing better to do than listen to you ramble about your latest chapter or some ridiculous thought that had struck you at 2 AM. The way his presence settled over you like a balm, quieting the ache you thought would never leave.

You hadn't realized it at first—not really. Love never announced itself with grand gestures, not with him. It was in the familiarity, the ease, the moments where you found yourself laughing and forgetting, just for a second, that you had once carried grief like a second skin.

And then, one day, you laughed, and it didn't taste like mourning.

That was how you knew.

Gojo was no longer the ghost you carried in your bones.

Then the wedding happened.

You told yourself you wouldn't look. Wouldn't check. Wouldn't care.

But when something used to belong to you, when you once built an entire future around someone, it was impossible to ignore.

So you looked.

And it was exactly how you had planned your wedding together.

The venue. The colors. The goddamn flowers.

He didn't even change them.

You sat in silence, staring at the screen, wondering if he ever thought about you. If he even remembered that this was once supposed to be yours.

And then, as if he had been summoned by your grief, Geto was there.

He didn't say anything.

Just pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to your temple, and let you fall apart.

You didn't let that stop you. With your new found determination, you finished your first book. Something you had never thought would happen. With Gojo, his dreams were yours and you never fully pushed yourself to be nothing more than his woman.

With your book out in the world, published. Becoming a best seller. Attending conferences, interviews. And when you won an award, you stood on the stage giving your speech staring only Geto who had his eyes on you.

That night, he tore off the black dress you had on and kissed you deeply, like he had been holding his breath for far too long. His hands found you in the dark — not just your body, but all the broken, jagged pieces you thought no one could ever hold gently. With him, everything was different.

You loved him.

Not the way you had loved before — desperate and all-consuming, like you were burning just to keep someone warm. No, this was something quieter. Steadier. With him, you felt grounded, like you could finally exhale. You didn't have to shape yourself into something smaller or softer to fit into his world. You didn't have to be anyone else.

He made sure you always felt safe, even when the world outside felt too loud. In his arms, you were more than just a memory trying to forget itself.

When he made love to you that night for the first time, it was more than skin on skin. It was something deeper, something wordless. You could feel his soul in the way he moved, in the way he held you like you were something precious. The weight of his love was heavy but not suffocating — it filled you, described you, told you all the things he didn't have to say.

And in that moment, you knew.

Now, you were truly in love.

Years later, in the golden streets of Florence, you saw him again.

Gojo stood across the plaza, the setting sun casting long shadows. Beside him, a child clung to his hand—a little boy with stark white hair and his impossibly blue eyes.

Your heart clenched.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved.

You thought about all the things you could say. A million words. A million questions.

But then—

"Hey," Geto's voice, warm and familiar.

You turned just as he stepped out of the bakery, a paper bag in one hand, a soft smile on his lips.

Without thinking, you reached for him, and his fingers instinctively curled around yours.

Gojo's gaze dropped to your hand. To the ring glittering on your finger.

He didn't look surprised.

Just... nostalgic.

There were no words. No grand confessions. Just this. A moment in time where the past and present collided.

And then, without looking back, you walked away—Geto by your side, warm and steady.

Your laughter deep and hearty.

You would think that I would have learned by now how to recognize love.