#hwhbfo

This is LONG overdue, but big thank you to @imkumichan, @martins-rx, @littlerequiem, and a few others for the request! I hope everyone enjoys reading this piece!

In Sickness And In Health

A "His Wounded Heart Beats For One" Sequel

Relationship: Levi Ackerman/Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, Travel, World Travel, Side Quests, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Domestic Fluff, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: It's the year 847. Wall Maria has fallen, dragging most of humanity down with her, but you continue to live and Levi stays devoutly at your side. When a catastrophe summons you to the northernmost point of the Walls, you must carve a path through the social strife plaguing humanity. Both you and Levi, with your wretched luminary titles, will not complete the journey so easily.

read it on ao3!

an excerpt from chapter 3 of In Sickness And In Health

read the chapter here!

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“It was kinda nice to have your shadow,” you say. “It still is.”

“That’s…good, then.”

“Sure is. I’m just glad I was the lucky girl.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. I bested Thea—that’s quite an accomplishment.”

“What? I never wanted Thea.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.” The tower is darker at its waist. You can hardly see the blip of light at the top. “Everyone’s taken by her at first glance. She’s just one of those people, y’know?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. It would be concerning if you didn’t. I just happened to win that particular competition.”

“Wait.” His grip is sudden and stern around your wrist. Stopping, you sense his sincerity as you turn back to him. “You’re wrong.”

“Wrong?” you challenge, soaring over him with a few steps bolstering your height. “Why am I wrong?”

He’s barely visible in this light, his inky hair blending with the darkness. The murk hides him, blanketing him from the world in a reassurance that his sentiments will not be heard outside these walls. “It wasn’t luck,” he starts, his shyness reading as irritation. “I wasn’t throwing darts at a wall and picking a partner. I…”

Yes, it pains him to be soft, but you’ve learned that any reassurance must only be nonverbal. He clams up more when you coo at him. Instead, you rub a thumb along his knuckles and wait. He will chisel through his icy heart eventually and spill out his vibrant feelings.

“I pursued you. Nobody else, ever. It was always you, from the start.” In the fleeting moment where his bashfulness conquers, he finds a smidge of worry within his embarrassment. “You do know that, right?”