Anime Brainrot Era

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

Series:

The Bloodshed That Keeps Us Alive - Ongoing || Word Count: 16,301 Synopsis: The first time you get a knock on your door from Commander Erwin Smith himself, you know your time's up. It's not everyday someone like you gets approached by someone like him. The second time he knocks on your door unexpectedly, you're confident that your death is looming closer and closer. Being a citizen, a noble, of Mitras was never really what you wanted, anyway. This time, maybe you can make a real difference and atone for all the sins you've committed. After all, that's all you've ever wanted. To die an honourable death despite your history. However, when you see someone you never expected to see again, you're torn between being a good soldier or keeping the promise you made many years go. Even if he doesn't really know who you are.

Zanka Nijiku x F!Reader

Oneshots:

The question lingers as you observe him. He seems at peace, unbothered. The room is in the same state—incredibly clean, though it’s pretty empty by your standards. You don’t see much personal items aside from the one cabinet that contains what's left of his gear from when he was Captain.

The air in the room is still, but fresh from the slightly open windows. You’ve always insisted that ventilation is good for him even if it’s not particularly windy today. There are plants and flowers placed on his window sill—ones that you can make into tea, so he always has a fresh cup every morning and never run out of stock.

You were supposed to go on a morning stroll today since the town is looking fairly good despite the ongoing rebuilding. It’s only been a few months, and yet there are already solid structures and stable shelters.

During your walk, Levi would get his daily physical therapy; the only time he gets off of his wheelchair aside from when he has to use the bathroom. Even then, he needs your assistance sometimes.

He can walk much better now, though. It’s the pain management that you both have to be consistent with.

“You shouldn’t have to go with me every time,” he scoffs, though his words are barely a mumble. He takes another sip of his tea, holding it by the handle now—the small detail makes you smile.

It took a while to reassure him that you can always get another cup if that one happens to break. You even dabbled in pottery for a while to make sure he knows you can make new ones, or repair the old ones.

You chuckle, grabbing the button-up shirt on the bed and smoothing out the folds. “I want to, though.”

“Don’t you want a life outside of me?”

Somehow, your ears start to hurt from the silence that comes after. Your soft grin is wiped away instantly, and in the corner of your eye, you see that he’s looking at you now.

You set the clothing neatly on your lap and look into his steel-grey eyes. “A life outside of you is not a life at all, Levi. I’ll bring you everywhere I go if I could,” you sigh before giving him an airy laugh. “You’d never let me, though.”

His serious mood doesn’t let up. Instead, he huffs, setting the cup down on the window sill and crossing his arms. “All you do is take care of me.”

“And Gabi and Falco,” you continue, though your tone is much more enthusiastic than his. “It’s not like I stay indoors all the time, either. I go out, too. I have friends,” you shrug.

He places his hands on the wheels of his chair and moves closer to you, enough that your knees are now touching. “You go out to work. You meet with your friends to work. So we have enough money or resources to trade.”

You start thinking for a second, about what you’ve been doing recently, and maybe it’s about time you tell him the truth. So you huff in defeat and place a hand on top of Levi’s. “You’re really not up for going out today?”

He shakes his head no. “Not if it’ll keep you tied to me.”

You chuckle and the crease between his eyebrows get deeper—he doesn’t appreciate how lightly you’re taking the conversation, you can tell. So you wrap your hand around his and rest it on his lap. “That’s too bad, then.” A mischievous smile makes it’s way onto your face. “I wanted to show you the tea shop we’ve been wanting to set up. Onyankopon had a friend who was giving theirs away.”

Levi’s entire body stiffens and he clutches your hand tightly. His eyebrows are no longer frowning but now lays high in surprise, and there’s almost this unreadable glint in his eyes.

Your free hand makes its way to his other one and lace your fingers together. “I was working so we won’t have to work as much. It’s a corner-store, too. On the busiest street of town. And there’s an apartment right above it that comes with the shop. I managed to gather everything we need to set it up. We can move anytime you, Gabi, and Falco want.”

The breath he lets out is almost shaky as he closes his eyes shut, almost like he was in pain, but you knew that whatever he’s feeling is far from it. It’s the kind he makes when he’s relieved; something that both of you feel with a sting in your chest, as if it was always being squeezed—then suddenly it’s not anymore.

Your hearts have been suffocating for so long that, given the chance to breathe again, it hurts to adjust to the air.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re still as sharp as ever, looking cold, but this time there’s traces of warmth in there. A flicker of light he keeps restrained. “Yeah,” he gulps. “We should move there soon.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you—it’s tense, and you blame the oncoming tears that flood your eyes for making you sound so sentimental. Your chest hurts the same way his probably did a moment ago. It’s relief. Pure, innocent joy that you didn’t make a mistake by planning something without consulting him first.

It’s November—a month from now it’ll be his birthday. The tea shop was supposed to be a surprise, but his worries about the work you put in made you realize he must have been keeping a lot of it from you. At least now he knows that it’s not for only him.

You’ve both been dreaming of owning a tea shop since you were both in the Corps. He was your Captain, and you were his Lieutenant.

Sniffling, you squeeze his hand once, twice. “You told me back then that we can be together when hell freezes over, and I amended it. I said—”

“When the Titans are gone—”

“And I can fulfill my promise to give you a tea shop.” You gulp, and you chuckle wetly. “As dowry, I said.”

Both of you erupt in laughter, though you’re more on the teary side, and he’s trying not to be. The restraint of this man will take forever to dismantle, but at least this time, forever seems like an attainable feat.

Once you’ve calmed yourselves down, you stare at him fondly, and nerves creep up your chest, then your throat, until you feel your airways tighten just a little bit. “You want to move—does that mean you like me too?”

The laugh that escapes him looks like it surprised him too, but he continues through it. Levi isn’t one to feel awkward with eye contact but this seems to be the exception. While his hands remain in yours, his eyes travel to the floor and he clears his throat. “L/N we’ve lived together since we got here.”

When he pauses, you tilt your head down to try and catch his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath; his eyes land back on yours, softening to a degree that would terrify any cadet who’d never seen this side of him. “I think I’ve…taken a liking to you a long time ago,” he exhales, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit. “Ever since I saw you kept your quarters clean.”

You groan with a smile, letting his hand go to lightly slap his good knee. “Way to ruin the moment, Captain,” you huff with a roll of your eyes.

Levi shrugs. “It’s true. You’re the only one who cleaned the under-side of your desk.”

You groan again, this time with a hint of embarrassment, and you cover your face with both of your palms. “Only because I thought you were cute, you clean freak.”

“So you’re telling me…” he begins, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s looking quite devilish right now. “You were hot for boss so much you frequently deep cleaned your quarters?”

“You always visited so randomly for reports!!” you complained, hands falling from your face to wildly gesture around, as if it would somehow make the bright pink blush on your ears go away.

“Had to make sure you were doing your job,” he clarifies. “It was only a bonus that I got to see you.”

His words make the red spread to your cheeks. “I thought you hated me, asshole.”

“You know by now that’s how I show appreciation,” he jokes, and you can see, clear as day, the fondness in his eyes. Like iced tea in the summer—refreshing, comforting, and still warm despite the coldness of the grey. “I’d like to change that, though.”

“Kiss me.”

“W-what?” His sudden intake of breath made it sound like a stuttering gasp—which it was, but you’re not sure if he knows.

When you start giggling at his flustered state, he relaxes a little, but the shock has yet to completely wear off. Your heart starts to soften more for the captain, and a part of you wishes for something that can never be. “I really wish I could tell Erwin and Hange I made you stutter.”

“Brat,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, his eyes on anything else but your own.

“Seriously, though." Your fingers brushes his. “I gave you a tea shop; all I ask for is a kiss.” You smile innocently at him, half hoping that he would agree but also knowing that he won’t.

Levi is and always has been a complicated man. Always straying away from intimacy beyond light physical touches. It’s completely unimaginable to you how you manage to hold his hand this easily.

You’ve been doing it for a while—the light touching of your fingers, the back of your hands when you used to walk side-by-side during expeditions. It never became more until the war was at its peak. Even then, the most that happened was an embrace and words exchanged, sounding stiff and professional yet feeling profound and soul-crushing at the time.

This time won’t be any different. Levi would never—

The feeling of his lips on your knuckles is soft, warm from the hot tea you made him, leaving a burning sensation that becomes a sharp contrast against the cold November. It feels like a betrayal when the wind starts to blow and it makes you want to get closer to him, to the heat you’ve been craving for so long.

It feels like a betrayal because you’re not sure if you can. Like a moth to a flame, you think, except you’re the flame, asking for a vulnerable moth to come closer. You don’t want to burn Levi.

But it's starting to feel like he's willing to be.

Especially when he leans forward, cupping the side of your face with one hand, getting closer and closer to yours until you can feel his breath on your lips.

He’s not a moth, and you’re not a flame. Because when his lips touch yours, you feel the fire burning in your chest, and you doubt he doesn’t feel the same when he pushes against you harder, moving his lips almost desperately, tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip. While it’s only for a second, it makes your breath stutter before you have to pull away.

Unfortunately, the position can’t be comfortable for him, having to lean so far forward.

“Let’s move to the bed,” you sigh, absolutely breathless, bringing one of your hand up to the side of his face just has his drops from yours. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

When he shakes his head, his eyes avert from shame. “I won’t be able to do any of the work.”

With an airy chuckle, you bring your other hand up to his face as well, nudging his head slightly so he can look at your face, laughing when you squeeze his cheeks together playfully and a scowl grows on his face. Still, he doesn’t remove himself from your hold, only gains enough confidence to gaze directly into your eyes.

“Maybe I was lucky enough not to get permanently injured because the universe wanted at least one of us to be mobile enough to have mind-blowing sex,” you tease, voice husky and out of breath. “What do you think?”

Levi’s scowl deepens and he huffs, but the apple of his cheeks turn a shade of bright red, looking away for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, but he does move away from your hands, bracing himself on his wheelchair to stand up.

You support his body until he reaches the bed and sits down; you scooch over, giving him space to lean against the headboard.

He doesn’t have to say anything—you help him remove his house slippers and place them neatly on the floor right beside yours.

When you crawl over to him, your knees are on either side of his legs, careful not to put your weight on his thighs from fear of hurting his injury. A part of you wants to rest your arms on his shoulders and play with his surprisingly soft undercut, but you grasp both of his hands instead, knowing that he’s at least comfortable with that. “You’re the boss, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t stiffen this time, but his ears do turn an even darker shade of pink. “Still hot for boss? Is that a kink of yours?”

You roll your eyes and give him a dead-eyed stare. “You’re still hung up on that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t have a lot of things to hold over your head after you’ve taken care of me for over 7 months now.”

With a sigh, you squeeze his hands and try to give him the most reassuring smile you can muster, though you can’t help but be a little sad at the thought that he thinks of himself as a burden to you. You’re not sure when or if you can ever make him believe otherwise.

So, instead, you opt for banter. “We’ll get to the kinks soon.” With a mischievous smile, you smirk at your former captain. “If only you were consistent with your physical therapy then maybe you could’ve been fucking me by now—”

Levi’s lips are on yours instantly, hands moving away from your hold so they can rest on your hips. His mouth is moving hard and fast, tongue pushing forcibly inside—when it brushes yours, both of you groan, swallowing each other’s sounds with ease.

To your surprise, his hands pushes you down, and you feel something hard press against your core. The yelp that leaves you is muffled by his mouth, but you put your hands on his chest to stop him, but only enough to be able to talk.

“I don’t want to hurt your leg,” you mutter, feeling his breath fanning your lips.

Levi shakes his head, breathing hard, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating under your palm. “You’re not going to, I promise. It only hurts under the knee.”

A comfortable quiet falls over you both as he waits—his voice as thick as honey, and he smells of tea and vanilla, reminding you of the scented candles you gifted him when he took his first few painless steps since the war.

The memory hits you with a welcoming embrace, and it calms your worries enough to rest your weight on him, grinding your hips against his for a moment.

He groans and his hips twitch, the hardness in his pants meeting the heat in yours in an erratic, uncontrolled manner that makes your heart flutter. Levi’s head falls onto your shoulder and he takes a second to breathe as his grip tightens on your waist. “Fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head and nuzzling in the crook of your neck. “Been wanting this for a while.”

You pepper his neck with kisses in the meantime while your hands travel from his chest to his stomach, lifting his shirt enough to touch his skin. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask in between kisses. No one will care about marks, so you let yourself leave small bruises that make your eyes dilate every time you see the darkening patch on his perfect skin.

Levi thrusts up again, this time at a consistent pace. “You’ve seen me in a wheelchair, right?” he chuckles against your neck which results in laughter from you—he knows damn well you’re ticklish there.

His amusement doesn’t last long, though, because when you start meeting his hips with your own thrusts, both of you start panting even harder.

“Your leg looks pretty fine now,” you groan, biting his neck gently when your clit starts to throb. The pleasure spikes when you feel him twitch in his pants and you let out a full moan as you bury your face into his shoulder. “Fuck,” you mutter.

“Only because you’re so anal about physical therapy,” he counters, though there’s not bite to it, not when you find his sweet spot right above his collarbone. “Shit, shit—” Levi throws his head back, making a soft thud against the cushioned headboard.

By this point you give up on the banter and your hands start to fumble against the zipper of his pants. “You good?” The shakiness in your voice can’t be helped—you’re excited, but also nervous that he might want to stop. If so, you’d gladly move away from him, but when he nods his head in approval, you continue your ministrations until you’re hooking your fingers under his boxers.

You stop for a moment, looking up at him. Those stormy eyes are staring so intensely at you that you fear you might turn into a puddle. Gone are the cold, harsh stares of a hardened captain, replaced by the broken, but ever-so-loving Levi Ackerman that you got to know in your months of recovery. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” It’s breathy, almost too low to hear, but it’s there anyway.

So you take his cock out and run your thumb across his slit, spreading the precum around the head. It makes him hiss until his grip on you is almost bruising—he doesn’t need whatever Ackerman abilities he had to remain insanely strong.

You try to hide your surprise, but the amusement in his eyes makes it clear that he caught the widening of yours the moment you saw how long and thick he is.

“Everything okay?” he quips, obviously smug.

It doesn’t last long. You jerk him one, twice, three times, and he’s throwing his head back with the first, loudest moan you’ve pulled out of him so far. “Holy shit—”

“Everything okay?” you mock, letting your free hand caress the side of his face as you bring your lips to his once more. Thankfully, you’re wearing a rather comfortable skirt, which means you need only to rise a few inches and let go of his hard cock for a second to pull your panties to the side.

Once you have a hold of him again, you angle him just right, until you’re sitting down and feeling your walls clench tightly around him.

You both moan into the kiss and Levi has to use one of his hands to hold the back of your neck, pushing himself harder against your mouth just to muffle his own pleasured sounds.

When you start moving, Levi grunts, jaw clenching and his teeth biting down onto your lower lip.

Your body starts to get hot the faster you bounce on his lap, feeling his thick cock impale you so deep you feel him kiss your cervix repeatedly. The flush on your face gets worse the more you pant onto his lips, desperately trying to continue kissing him—but unforunately, the lewd moans spilling out of you make it hard

"Shit," you whisper, wetness beginning to pool around his pelvis. One moment Levi has one hand on your waist, the other on the back of your neck, but then he has both on your ass, gripping tightly, anchoring himself—he starts thrusting into you slightly, making you yelp and throw your head back at the unexpected pressure.

Your thighs begin to tremor and you collapse onto your lover, throwing your arms around his neck, chest to chest with him while you nuzzle your face under his jaw and attempting to ground yourself from the pleasure.

You have no idea how Levi manages to lift himself up, but the grunts and moans slipping out of his lips, words brushing against your hair as he presses his mouth against it, tells you that he's neck-deep in bliss as much as your are—injuries be damned.

Dipping your head, you nip at his neck and suck, sure to leave a mark as you keep grinding against him, your pleasure-filled cries muffled and drowned out by his own.

The room echoes with the sound of skin against skin; heavy panting bouncing aorund the room—thank god Gabi and Falco are out right now, you're not sure you're ready to have The Talk with them if it came down to it.

Levi's thrusts get faster and you can't help but sit up straight, throwing your head back at the sudden change of pressure and tempo, his cock pressing against your walls so deliciously that sparks of pleasure spreads from your heat.

He wastes no time leaning forward and enveloping one of your nipples into his mouth, his hands still tightly holding onto your ass—he'll mark you, too, by the end of this, whether it's because of his fingers or his mouth on your breasts.

At the added stimulation your thighs start to tremble and your moans turn into high-pitched whines, and when you hear Levi groan so lewdly that he has to press his lips harder into your chest, the tightness in your core snaps, your entire body shaking with intense bliss that your eyes start rolling to the back of your head.

Your groans turn into growl-like whimpers when his rhythm gets sloppy but his thrusts get harder—he screams your name, muffled by yout tits, though loud enough that you hear it as clear as day even in your haze.

"Fuck—" he groans, pulling out suddenly with the help of his arms lifitng you just fast enough for him to paint your stomach in thick ropes of cum instead of your warm walls.

Both of you collapse, making sure that you roll off of him; if you didn't, you'd both be sticky, and even though you're deep into your post-orgasmic brain fog, you know it would make Levi uncomfortable.

You're staring up at the ceiling of his room as you're both trying ot catch your breath when his hand reaches for yours—Levi hooks his pinky around your own, and it feels oddly intimate despite that fact that you're covered in his cum.

You turn your head to see his blissed out state, still looking up, his eyes hazy and droopy. His skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat and you can see the marks you left littering his neck.

Levi sees you smirk from the corner of his eyes. When he turns to look back at you—you can almost say he's gazing at you with a dream-like stare, as if he's finally content after all this time you've spent under one roof.

You've seen him happy, maybe even peaceful.

But there's always something.

Something about his expressions that make it look like he thinks there's a missing piece somewhere. That he wants more—and you know that he's always been afraid of wanting more.

After all, both of you already feel like not having to live as soldiers is too much; too much for something you both deserved.

Maybe a part of him also feels like you shouldn't deserve it, because you're cursed with remembering all the lives you know should be living yours right now.

Up until now, there was always something.

Something missing, something off, something unsaid.

Now that he's looking into your eyes, though, and with the warmth that's spreading across your chest, the soft breathing and bewitched stares exchanged between you both, contained inside the privacy of your own home and hopefully your future one as well—you think you know what that something might be.

 And there isn’t enough energy you can muster up to walk a little faster. For the longest time, coming home felt like an opportunity to recharge, get ready for the next day so you can keep yourself alive. Alive for them. If you’re alive, then you can help them stay alive.

They’re gone now, though.

So, what are you home for now? There’s no goal, no purpose. Your rest would mean staying alive another day just to remember that you’re sense of direction is gone. If so, how come you’re still alive?

You’ve earned enough to follow them, and the desperate part of you that wants to is trying to claw itself out from the crevices of your heart. However, committing yourself to surviving in the Underground is not a feat you can achieve without staining your hands permanently red.

You can follow them—but how much of it is because you want to get away from your crimes?

Before you can wallow any further, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and your eyes rapidly scan the surrounding area. You swear there’s something out of place but you can’t pinpoint it. As if you know there’s a predator nearby, but it’s camouflaged, and you’re left searching for it before you become its next meal.

There’s a cloaked man several feet away, his stride showed confidence and purpose, and it sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of despair that lingers in the faces of the crowd. Even the toughest of criminals carry some kind of shame behind their brutish demeanor.

The stranger is tall, wearing a hood that covers half of his face, and even if you didn’t notice that he doesn’t quite belong, the cloak around his shoulder’s would have been enough to ring alarm bells in your head. It doesn’t look old or tattered, not like it was bought 2nd hand or stolen, or even picked up from a trash pile.

He’s up to something. No one in the Underground who’s intent on committing a crime ever feels the need to hide it unless they’re paid mercenaries. Robberies, assault, even murder—these are all common here, and most of the time, the people responsible are dressed normally, often acting on their malicious thoughts on impulse.

Even petty thieves know it’ll be easier to steal if their targets don’t anticipate them.

Whoever is trailing you isn’t from around here.

This prompts you to pull your own hood over your head—something you only do when you’re set on hiding your identity. To hell with looking suspicious, at least the people down here won’t see who’s getting stalked, which means it won’t make you a target once it’s all over.

The less people take interest in you, the better.

Especially because you’ve dealt with enough criminals to know that this man is not a criminal.

You recognize the boots he wears, the rigid posture—the walk of a seasoned soldier.

The Underground is a dangerous place, but most of its residents learn that the best way to live is to tune out every reason to die.

This man looks too wary; clearly not used to the land of the sewers. He’s alert and aware of his surroundings like a wanted felon. Everyone who’s eve lived here knows the dangers like the back of their hand. There’s no need to be hyperaware if it’s already become muscle memory.

He’s one of them, you’re sure. One of the people who took them away—and now their eyes are set on you.

You take a sharp left turn into an alley that leads to a dead end, climbing the walls using the pipes and the bricks that stick out, successfully pushing yourself over to the other side of the wall.

It’s not a big fall but it’s enough to knock the wind out of you despite the good landing.

You don’t wait to catch your breath before you start running again, taking the complicated routes you know to get home, constantly going into dead ends just to put more distance between you and your pursuers.

It’s odd.

You don’t hear anything at all. No ODM hooks hitting the walls, no heavy foot falls.

They don’t seem to be chasing you, but it doesn’t put you at ease just yet. If anything, a part of you is worried they’ve figured out where you live and chose to wait for you there to make their arrest.

Despite this, though, you continue on your way home, ditching the alleys and taking the main roads instead, constantly looking over your shoulder. You figured that going to open areas will even the playing field since the buildings are farther apart than if you were in cramped spaces.

It’s not foolproof, since the Underground is narrow to begin with. “Open roads” just means more time for their ODM hooks to latch onto a wall and time for you to run.

When the trip back to your place ends up being harmless the rest of the way, you try shaking off the weird, prickly feeling on the back of your neck and even out your breathing. You didn’t notice how tense your shoulders were until the keys in your hands start to clink together from the little twitches of your hand, the muscles growing too weak and too strained to properly steady itself.

Inhale, exhale.

The keys click into place after several attempts, and you swing your door open.

⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆

You’re hit with a wave of nostalgia then your feet hit the floor of Erwin’s office. Your mind gifted you with a trip down memory lane in your sleep, and it’s making you slightly sentimental about the man sitting behind his desk.

It feels almost strange to watch him work so diligently—perhaps it’s because it looks eerily like the image that greeted you right before you woke up today. That was when your life truly changed; with a man so devoted to his work that he crawled the depths of the sewers just to hunt down some criminal who’d never seen the sky.

“I hope you don’t mind being excluded in the expedition—the one before the 104th’s graduation.”

Erwin is straight to business as usual, and you hum in acknowledgement as you close the door behind you, situating yourself on the chair in front of his desk. “It’s not really my call,” you sigh. “But can I ask why? I thought you’d want me out there as soon as possible to get experience or something.”

He shakes his head no while he opens a folder, writing what you think are reports. “It’s too soon.” The scratching of pen and pencil is unmistakable in the thick silence of the room, making you lean back into your chair to get comfier. The tension is unfamiliar between you both, especially behind closed doors where you can be a little bit more lenient with your dynamic.

However, since your delightfully attentive cousin’s mind is working on several things at once, you’re happy to wait for him to talk, even if he bares his usual snobbish aura. “If we want your mission to succeed, you must get acquainted with your environment and the 104th.”

You lean back on your chair and pick at the edge of the arm rest. “I don’t think it’s that pertinent to the mission.” Your eyes follow the languid flow of ink that flows from his pen, wondering how much time it has left before it runs out. “The networks, the connections, everything you need—I have,” you remind him. “That’s why I’m here, right?”

He keeps working, not even sparing you a glance, but you know he’s listening despite the absent look in his eyes with every nod of acknowledgement. Sometimes you think that you can ask him the most absurd questions and he’ll agree without a second thought. Maybe you should ask for a personal horse to get you around town—or maybe a custom uniform.

“Erwin,” you call out. Your gaze is fixated on him as you lean forward. “Don’t overthink this. You’ve trained me for expeditions, so let me go on them.”

The pleading tone in your voice is obvious with every electric pulse of excitement that reaches your fingertips. The thought of going outside the Walls has always invigorated you—after all, this is what you’ve been training for. It’s the second part of your mission.

Countless sleepless nights and full-body aches from hours-worth of training after hours-worth of sleuthing and conniving against the military government has all built up to this.

He sets his pen aside along with the documents on the table and finally giving you his full attention. He visibly relaxes as he leans back in his chair, thick eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates your request.

You let his silence take over the room as you wait with bated breath. It’s not unusual for him to deny your wishes but sometimes—most of the time—you’re able to sway him. Though, unfortunately, it’s not usually regarding things involving your jobs or missions.

Despite your fairly close relationship, though, you don’t dare act too unprofessional. He’s still your Commander, but sometimes, maybe more often than that, you miss the friendly, almost familial banter between you both.

Erwin Smith can easily be persuaded if you act like an annoying little sibling sometimes—it’s why you think Hange and him get along so well compared to others.

You think the dream you had might have given you a major hit of nostalgia. Times were undoubtedly simpler back then. The darker tones of life, the vile colours of the sewer-life community, was just easier on the mind. You survive or you don’t.

Above ground, you were thrown into a life full of complexities made up of noblemen and their multitude of affairs, military-run governments, illegal spy-work on your end curtesy of the Survey Corps Commander, etc.

So of course, working with him has been a constant in your life. You found the closest thing to a family with Erwin, unexpectedly so, which means you’ve gained the privilege of pestering him and pushing his buttons whenever you want to get your way.

He rescued you, yes, but by no means did he make your life easier. You hated him at first, associating him with the people who took your people away, but in the end, the mutual benefits of working together won you over. You had no choice but to grow fond of the stern but oddly welcoming man.

You’ve definitely earned the right to annoy him. If not for you, a lot of his plans for the Survey Corps would not have come to fruition.

“No,” he shakes his head, and you slump back down on your chair with a childish huff and an equally childish pout, to which he gives you a look akin to a disappointed dad. “You need to stay here and oversee the graduating soldiers. You may have succeeded in the first part of your mission, but here, I only want you to get along with everyone else.”

To your surprise, he slowly drops the stiff, Commander tone and offers you a small, gentle smile. “You’re not a spy here, Y/N. You’re not pretending to be a member of the Survey Corps. You are one of us. You’re a soldier now. Which means I want you out there when you’re ready and can work well with the rest. You’ll go on expeditions at the same pace as the 104th.”

The finality in his voice is one you recognize and have learned to trust with your life, though you have to admit, you have tested the limits on how well you can try to persuade him into doing what you want.

This particular monologue of his had you unprepared, however. His usual commanding words were accompanied by a softness you rarely see, much less expect him to have when he’s quite literally telling you, as your Commander, that you are not to join the expedition. 

Perhaps he may not be saying it purely as your superior. Or maybe that’s the nostalgia talking. Either way, you can’t really argue with it.

With a groan of defeat, you mutter a small ‘fine’ with an expression you think is comparable to a toddler who was denied candy.

“So,” he begins, shifting forwards so he can lean with his elbows on his desk. “You’re more comfortable with Captain Levi than I anticipated.”

It’s a statement, not a question. You’ve known Erwin long enough that the fact that his eyebrows are as expressive as they are right now can only mean he’s prying you for information.

If you ever tell anyone that the Commander loves to dabble in gossip from time to time, well, they’d have a heart attack.

You huff, giving him an exasperated—but very amused—look, hoping that maybe, if he senses the slight embarrassment, he’ll let it go.

He holds his ground, though, and he keeps staring at you with those ridiculously bushy brows of his raised, as if he’s expecting you to lay down all your cards just because he told you to—indirectly, as well.

Erwin taps his desk with his fingers. “He said something about how you were too comfortable challenging his authority.” He waves it off. “But that’s only the censored version.”

You have to admit, seeing him like this in his uniform inside his office? It’s a little…out of place. Usually, his sillier side is saved for outside Survey Corps buildings and duties, since he has a reputation to uphold.

But apparently, childish gossip about you is an exception, so you give into his whims.

“Fineee,” you whine, though your tone remains flat—you’re not trying to give him any more ammunition. “I know Levi.”

His eyebrows twitch in what you think is surprise, but he also nods, as if he was expecting this information. Somehow his focus on you intensifies and his stare becomes more than curious—he’s probably scheming.

You’re quick to clarify things, though, crossing your arms and snorting. “But he doesn’t know me. I’ll tell you more only if you promise not to tell him.” The hint of desperation in your voice is embarrassing—similar to what one would feel if they have to beg their sibling to keep their mouth shut.

Still, not much of a response from him other than a nod and a familiar smirk.

“I’ve known him since Kenny.” It’s barely above a whisper, and you have trouble keeping eye contact. You can’t help but bounce your knee up and down as well when you recall your past. “Kenny knows me, too. And I made a promise to him a long time ago—about Levi.”

Erwin sits up straighter and you know you’ve caught his interest; beyond what he was originally expecting. He’s a clever motherfucker. He’s probably planning something about this now—you wouldn’t be surprised if you and Levi start seeing each other more frequently.

“Hey!” you snap your fingers in front of his face and he chuckles, leaning back on his chair once again. “No telling Levi! It’s not like I expected to see him again after I got out of there.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, though is expression is telling you that he’s more entertained than threatened. “I won’t, I won’t.” Despite the unexpectedly casual conversation, the bravado in his voice remains, still sounding like a Commander. “I always hoped you and Levi would work together,” he hums, staring at his desk thoughtfully. “This might just mean my gamble will pay off.”

When he makes eye contact with you again, there’s a mischievous glint somewhere behind those irises. It almost makes you want to shiver from fear—a plotting Erwin is a disturbing Erwin.

“That stupid gambling addiction of yours,” you mutter. There’s a scowl on your face, though you think it might come off as more of a bratty pout than anything else. It infuriates you how Erwin manages to pull out your childishness. “I think it’s clear your little Captain hates my guts so I’m not sure how right you are about that.”

He snickers, but his eyes soften to a more reassuring smile, giving you a look into that rare warmth that you doubt anybody in the Corps has seen—with the exception of Hange and Levi, maybe. “Has it not benefitted you?”

“Once!” you quip. “It paid off once.”

“And those experiments of yours?” The depth of his voice, when paired with his ridiculous teasing, is the bane of your existence.

“That’s science!” you exclaim, arms waving around the air as if you can’t comprehend the absurdity of his question. “Not gambling!”

You and Erwin get lost in the silliness of the moment, laughing almost uncontrollably; almost, because you’re reminded by the occasional distant footsteps outside to remain professional.

Clearing your throat, you calm your breathing down, relishing in the warmth in your chest from the rare moment of peace before you move on to a different topic. “Oh yeah! Speaking of—I’m working on a new chemical of sorts. For combat.”

The Commander perks up at the news. “For the Survey Corps?”

You nod ambitiously, recalling how far you’ve come at developing it. “I just need one more thing,” you conclude—it’s your turn now to look mischievous.

His eyes narrow, knowing well enough that once your ambition is mixed with that sly, devilish expression, that there’s something you want; something so ludicrous that he’ll have to rethink his position has Commander now that you’re working under him.

You get everything you want—you always do, one way or another.

“Titans.”

For a second, Erwin looks completely horrified by the implications, but the expression doesn’t remain—two cadets knock on his door, announcing that they were ordered to deliver reports to his office.

The Commander lets them in and dismisses you, but not before sending you a wary look, to which you respond by merely winking back, purposely hidden from the two people in the room right as you step out and close the door behind you.

⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆

When you were told that you’d be teaching basic emergency first aid training for the graduating cadets, you were expecting an experience resembling that of trying to prepare for an incoming hurricane.

While many of them are adults who’d volunteered to join the Corps, unfortunately, most of them are children—majority being under 18 years of age.

You’ve been around several types of people due to the nature of your job, but you’ll have to admit that teaching a group of kids first aid would not be something you’d list as one of your expertise.

However, you know the urgency of this class, and as far as you can tell, Erwin has yet to hire anyone with as much medical experience as you—ignoring the fact that you aren’t really a medical doctor.

You’ve dabbled enough in medicine, though, especially emergency medicine. So that has to count for something, right?

Fortunately the class ended up going as well as you had wanted it to. Most people seemed wary of your presence since you’re a new face—some were hell-bent on showing off, some were on the shier side.

But most wanted to learn, which you weren’t surprised by. Everyone knows what happens outside the walls even if they’ve never been.

There had been some bickering here and there, mostly with the younger children, but you learned that if you ignored it or politely acknowledged it, they tend to shut up quickly out of fear—you think that Shadis and Levi may have instilled some trauma.

Speaking of, right now, they’ve moved on to hand-to-hand combat. It’s Shadis’ turn to teach them and you were welcomed to sit in and watch—the retired commander even suggested you join, his words coated with sarcasm since he knows you’ve had your fill of training under Erwin.

There aren’t any other things on your schedule today aside from the first-aid class. Your experiments are obviously waiting for you in your lab, but you decided it was nicer to be around the budding soldiers—plus, you get to see how Keith Shadis teaches, which will serve you well when it’s time for you to head more projects and classes, since Erwin has made it clear that you should share your knowledge with the others.

You have to admit you have a soft spot for the younger ones. They’re too young to be in the business of titan-killing, and you can only imagine what they had to see and go through for them to decide that it’s worth risking their lives to help turn your depressing world around.

If you can help keep them breathing even just a day longer, then you’d be happy. They should be dreaming of their future; not dreading that they won’t get to have one.

That experience is familiar for you, too, except you’ve reached adulthood without ever knowing what you could have dreamt of as a child. Life just sort of…happened to you.

And you’re not sure if it’s worth risking your life for a noble cause at such a young age, or growing up and looking back, realizing that the age where you should have dreamt of building a life has past you.

Of course the former is much more gruesome—you’re clearly one of the luckier ones. However, sometimes you get to thinking: would it feel better to die with a purpose or live without it?

The purpose of your life, for you, shifted a few times throughout the years, but again, it happened to you, and you’re lucky that it kept you going for this long. Long enough to watch the next generation of soldiers, help them train to survive longer—there’s a calmness in knowing you’d be out there with them, too.

“Commandant Shadis, I think their stances can be improved—” Just as you’re about to make some adjustments, especially with how they can use it to easily propel themselves with their ODM, an older Scout approaches.

He stands confidently next to you and Shadis, off to the side but still in front of every cadet, as if trying to make a show of it all. You brace yourself. You’ve seen enough people like him to know what’s to come.

The stranger scoffs. “Stop trying to change things that aren’t broken. People outside the Corps shouldn’t be telling us what to do—especially not some Mitras bitch.”

The Commandant scowls, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but he approaches the man, calling out his name harshly. ‘Scholz’ is his name.

“Did I ever teach you to speak to you superiors that way?!” Shadis barks, pointing a finger at him sternly, looking like he’s about to burst a vein. “Apologise to Representative L/N this instant!”

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the air, the only one who can somehow steal the spotlight from the Commandant despite his lower ranking and quieter voice. “Aside from the name calling, I think Scholz is right.” Levi walks up behind the older Scout. “I don’t think someone who’s never lived outside the richest city should tell the most underfunded government regiment what to do. It could cost us lives.”

Keith Shadis sighs, putting a hand on his forehead in exasperation. He glances at the cadets who are obviously listening intently; those kids barely see anything interesting, so they must find this a good source of entertainment.

There’s the Scout who’s obviously enjoying the attention and validation from his Captain, then there’s Shadis who just wants to do his job, and of course, the newly arrived Levi, who’s stirring the pot for shits and giggles.

You know he has a point to prove, but it’s all unnecessary—he’s being dramatic, you think. Taking it all out of proportion just to cause a scene that’ll get a rise out of you, so that maybe, he can show Erwin and Shadis that you aren’t fit to be here.

All while hiding behind the veil of wanting the best of the cadets. Though, when you think about it more, you doubt he’s actually trying to hide. There’s some truth to their point, that’s for sure.

“Captain Levi, I believe Erwin has told you her credentials—her input is valuable, I’m sure.” While you appreciate the Commandant’s support and approval, you still step forward and place your hand on his arm reassuringly before letting it go with a polite smile and a nod.

“Thank you, Commandant,” you say, then face Levi and Scholz. “But I’m sure Captain Levi has a point to all of this. I’m certain there’s something else you want to say, Captain.”

There’s no bite to your words, but there is a hint of challenge.

And you think Levi catches onto it when the corner of his mouth twitches up in interest. “Spar with Scholz.” He gestures to the man next to him, who looks utterly terrified for a moment before resolving to a smug, slightly wavering smirk. “If Erwin and Shadis are right, then you should kick his ass easily. Use the shit you were trying to teach earlier if you really want to prove yourself.”

Just before the Commandant can argue, you hold up a hand to stop him, silently saying that you’ve got the situation handled. “I think the Captain is right. Why not?” You give Scholz your friendliest smile. “It’s about time I start moving after being idle for so long. What do you think?” you ask the Scout, already starting to do your stretches, both to prepare yourself and to intimidate. Though it does feel a little ridiculous.

In all honesty, you aren’t really trying to show off to Scholz or the cadets. You’ll prove yourself outside the walls; when your skills matter, where they’re needed. Right now, though, you just want to push Levi’s buttons a tiny bit more.

Despite his brave face since he interrupted your conversation with Shadis, Scholz still had it in him to look at the Commandant for permission. The retired Commander, albeit reluctantly, gives him the approval that everyone seems to be waiting for, and Scholz takes a step forward, copying you by showing off his own stretches.

You walk so that you’re about sparring distance from him before you look to Levi. “Are we allowed real hits?”

He shrugs, stepping back to give you and your opponent space, with Shadis doing the same. “If you can manage.”

“Hey, hey, wait—” Suddenly, the Scout is peddling back. “I can’t actually hit a lady; I’ll pull my punches, don’t worry—”

He lets out a loud groan when your fist connects with the side of his face, the impact loud enough that the cadets seem to flinch at the sound. Despite your focus being elsewhere, though, you still hear Levi chuckle.

“No need to pull punches, Scholz,” you quip, but there’s not a lot of time to be smug when he gets up, anger clear on his face, and charges at you. You put your dominant food forward, your hands in front of you and bent at the elbows so you’re protecting the sides of your head. Your palms are open and relaxed with your chin tucked in.

You sidestep quickly, letting the man stumble before you’re stepping back, turning around and sweeping him off his feet with on leg. Instead of pinning him down, you let him regain composure.

It would be sad to get this over with so fast.

When he charges again, you evade just as speedily, but this time he doesn’t stumble. He turns and tries to land a punch that you effectively block with your forearms. Scholz steps to the side when you try to punch back and he grabs your hand, attempting to twist, but you catch him off guard when you kick his stomach roughly.

He manages to plant his feet and lunge forward, grabbing you by your throat. In no time you slam your arms downwards by the crook of his elbows and they bend, his hold notwithstanding the blow—you don’t attack, you let yourself be open to see what he’ll do next.

His leg swings from the side in a roundhouse kick, you duck, then he tries to land two punches. You evade them once again, but on his second hit, you catch his fist once it’s past your face, freezing his whole arm for a split second before you land an elbow strike to his nose.

A sickening crunch is heard and you know you’ve broken it, so for his sake, you decide to end the fight. You grab his arm again and you move so that you’re in front of him, holding his arm outward.

You step forward so your leg is just behind his and you sweep back, toppling him almost on his back, if it isn’t for your hold on his arm and elbow. You turn your body so he’s behind you on your back, his arm slung around your shoulder which you support the joint of with your other hand, then your twist your hip, sending him over your body and down to the ground.

When a loud thud is heard, you walk forward and lean so you’re right above his face, which is upside down from your point of view. You tilt your head at him, then stand straight to face your Captain. “He wasn’t lying. He really can’t hit a lady.”

You can hear victory bells ringing in your head when he has to face away from you, seemingly in disapproval of your disrespectful joke—you see it, though. The slight upward quirk of his mouth. He’s trying not to at least chuckle.

You shake your head slightly in amusement before turning back to your opponent and extending a hand to help him up, but he doesn’t accept. Scholz gets up on his own and dusts himself off, scoffing before walking away with the tips of his ears turning pink and his gait much less confident than it was before.

Levi calls him back, clearly irritated, but you stop him. “It’s fine; they don’t fight humans, anyway.” That’s all you say, sending a sympathetic smile to Scholz’s way despite knowing he won’t see.

Whatever truce you and him had during the fight—the kind where you’re both in agreement of something, which is that Scholz sucks at fighting—it breaks when he looks back at you and crosses his arms. “He’s obviously shit. If we want a better example, you should fight me instead if you want to prove something.”

Shadis immediately says no, but Levi counters it by saying that Erwin would agree, especially if it’s for educational reason. “L/N was right earlier, with their stances. The one she used with Scholz is much better. I’d say she uses it against me.”

You smile politely at the Commandant, not even out of breath. “The Commander would agree, sir.”

As usual, he agrees, but he looks more tired than you’ve seen him, even after yelling at the cadets all day. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts in agreement before waving you off and standing back much farther than he did compared to your spar against Scholz.

It made you grin and look back at Levi, amused. You expected him to smirk but all he gives you is a deadpan look when he gets into position; the stance he uses is exactly like yours, and it seems practiced.

You wonder why he never bothered to adjust the cadet’s stances if he uses the same one you do.

Levi punches twice with the same hand and you manage to block them despite having no warning—all that you got was the quick whooshing sound of his hand moving through the air. With your slight tumble backward, he kicks and you move your arm to block his shin.

Goddamn, you think. His kicks are hard as fuck.

You lunge to punch him but he ducks down and elbows your rib, making you fall to the ground with a grunt. At least you know he’s not holding himself back; you’ll have bruises there tomorrow.

He waits for you to get up but he doesn’t do so for long, since you’re upright quick and punch twice. He ducks, and the split second it takes him to right himself you’re already kicking his stomach.

It lands. But he grabs your ankle as he stumbles and he twists—not wanting to injure yourself, you go with the momentum and let yourself drop. You prop yourself up on your elbow and kick the side of his leg hard enough that he loses balance.

Levi doesn’t fall but it’s enough for you to jump up and tackle him. He spins both of you around so that you’d fall below him but you anticipated it, so you both land on your sides.

He manages to overpower you and now he’s on top, pulling his fist back and landing a punch, but you block it with your arms. You raise your legs and wrap them around his hips, grabbing his shoulders and pushing—using your hips as leverage you manage to roll to the side, effectively pushing him off of you.

Wasting no time you elbow him on his face, but he ducks and punches your stomach twice; the second one landing right where he hit your rib. It sends a spike of pain through you that you can’t conceal as you yell in pain, but you don’t fall.

Instead, you wait for him—he’s about to lunge, and he did, so you evade and once his back is to you, you elbow the back of his ribs and he grunts. Quickly, he turns and punches you in the face—it lands, you’re starting to slow because of the pain on your ribs.

He moves to send you into an arm lock but you manage to counter it and land a hard kick to his other rib, Levi grabs your leg again and succeeds in throwing you down, this time on your stomach.

Huffing, you feel him pin your arms down behind you, thinking you’re about to lose.

But it appears he thinks that you’ve given up; his hold isn’t as tight. You break your arms free and roll on your back, punching the side of his face. You go for another hit but he catches it, his free hand’s knuckles connecting with the side of your face.

It subdues you enough that he’s able to take hold of your wrists and put them above your head—the sudden position makes your stomach drop, memories flashing in your mind, so instinctively, you spit on his face. Levi flinches in disgust and it’s enough of a distraction, so you headbutt him and kick his stomach.

He flies backwards and you move to lunge at him—

“Stop!” Shadis marches towards both of you and orders that you both stand up properly, which you do. “I think they get the point.” The only reason you think he’s not losing his mind right now is because you’re obviously both very respectable in your field.

You rub your wrists so soothe them, meanwhile, Levi curses under his breath as he wipes his face with his shirt.

To your surprise, however, he’s not overly angry at you. You’ve heard he’s a clean freak. Instead, he looks suspicious and even more wary of you than he was before. The expression disappears as quickly as it came, though.

“You were reckless,” he seethed, teeth grinding against each other as he looks at you with piercing eyes. “If I had a weapon, I could’ve killed you if you tried that shit in real life. Playing dirty doesn’t always mean you get out of danger.”

You chuckle humourlessly. “I have tried,” you mutter. Your eyes meet, though your expression is more tired than aggressive. “I haven’t been killed yet,” you shrug.

When you glance at the cadets, their facial expressions are all a mix of being impressed and horrified that they’d just seen a real fight. Despite being soldiers, you’re not sure if they’ve ever been exposed to this level of human violence before, especially with individuals as trained as you and Levi.

While you don’t think your fight was all that show-stopping, you do agree that Levi is incredibly quick—much faster than you, and definitely with a lot more endurance for pain. You can’t imagine how fast he could be on ODM.

You pride yourself in speed and timing when it comes to combat—both with gear and without, so you can commend Levi that he gave you a run for your money. Had Shadis not stopped you both, you swear you would’ve gotten your ass handed to you within a minute.

At least this way you can pretend it’s a stalemate, for no other reason than to make Levi think someone could’ve stood a chance against him. While you doubted it would be reciprocated, you dust yourself off and extend a hand toward the Captain.

Levi stares, but accepts it, and his hand is finally in yours.

His hands are calloused, but still soft. You’re not sure if that’s because his grip is surprisingly gentle of it’s because he probably washes them so much out of habit.

You’re both looking disheveled with blood and bruises spotting your faces, but you can’t help the tired grin on your face. “That was nice, Captain,” you express, completely out of breath but proud you manage to hold your own against him. He’s deserving of his titles, you think. “Technically, we’re at a stalemate, but I would’ve lost had it gone on for longer.”

Oh how easy it is to let go of pettiness sometimes. His hand in yours made you reconsider if you really want him to think you’re on his level—not when he’s so deserving of the unreachable league he’s currently in.

He huffs and lets go of your hand. “You’re filthy; get yourself cleaned up.” That’s all he says before he walks away. “Not bad. But try not to get your spit on me next time.”

The Captain doesn’t even turn around; he knows you’re listening.

Shadis walks up to you, his eyes set on the cadets before they land on you. “Everyone,” he calls out, and you immediately see the budding soldiers straighten their backs and fix their positions—almost by instinct. “Let this teach you never to undermine authority,” he barks.

Despite everything that happened after Scholz left, the Commandant still look pretty hung up on the impudent soldier.  

He faces the rest of the future graduates and glances at you from the corner of his eye. “…Unless you’re Representative L/N.” You can sense the hint of humour in his tone, but it’s still mostly serious, which makes you worry that the cadets might take that a little too seriously; you’re not sure if you want that reputation after Scholz.

If that isn’t flattering and embarrassing enough to make your cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink though, then you’re doomed the moment you spot Erwin in the distance with a giddy Hange next to him.

You wouldn’t be reprimanded for egging Levi on.

Worse, you’d be endlessly teased and interrogated. Hange, you can handle, but your cousin—you might need a second to prepare yourself for.

Whatever Erwin thinks he knows about your history with Levi is harmless at best. Deep down, though, he’s a meddler once he sets his mind on something.

And there’s definitely something brewing in that brain of his, especially now that you’ve indirectly proven to him that a potential partnership with Levi would be to the benefit of the Corps.