#levievent

You give your head a little shake and tune back into the larger conversation at hand just in time to hear Connie exclaim, “We should all celebrate with a little treat for ourselves!” 

Reiner's brow furrow, “Like what?” He asks. 

“You know, something we've been wanting or missing! We've hardly had any time to ourselves this past year but now that we're done, we can indulge in the little things again.” Connie rests his chin in his hand, staring into space with a dreamy look on his face.

You take the bait, “So how will you be treating yourself, then?” 

Connie brightens instantly, “I'm going to go to the local animal shelter we set up a few months ago and I'm going to pet every dog these grubby hands can touch.” He flexes his fingers dramatically. 

The suggestion is so ridiculous, you almost want to laugh but he's so sincere that you smile warmly instead. “That sounds great, Connie. A perfect celebration for you.” 

“I'd like to see the ocean.” Armin chimes in, “Really see it and explore you know?” 

“I also want to see the ocean.” Annie murmurs directly into the mug that she is gripping with two sets of white knuckles. 

“What?” Reiner turns to Annie with a confused frown stretching his face, “In all of the years I've known you, you've never once expressed any desire to-” he cuts off with a pained grunt, caused by Jean's swift kick to his shin under the table. 

“That works out perfectly, then.” Jean states loudly. He looks pointedly at Reiner and he continues, “Armin and Annie can go to the ocean. Together.” 

For a minute, you're afraid that Reiner will continue to question Annie's sudden interest in the sea but his face morphs slowly from lost confusion to dawning understanding and he keeps his mouth shut. It feels like the whole table breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I'd like to go back to Paradis.” Mikasa says quietly, “Back to Shiganshina. I want to see the tree where we. . .” She trails off, blinking rapidly and turning her face to the side. 

Something in your heart twists at her simple wish. You all carry emotional trauma but none as harrowing as Mikasa's. You’d like to think that healing is just a matter of time for all of you but part of you already knows that Mikasa never truly will. 

Jean slowly slides a hand on top of hers, resting on her lap. He speaks with gentleness that you didn’t know he was capable of, “I'd like to go home too. See where my house once stood. Visit Historia maybe.” 

Mikasa nods wordlessly and leans into Jean's shoulder. You wonder how long that has been going on. You catch Levi's eye and raise a questioning brow. He merely shrugs in response. 

The conversation drifts on - Reiner says he wants to take Gaby and Falco to a carnival a few towns over, Pieck's wish is to learn to knit so she can make her own sweaters, Onyankapon considers taking up sailing, and Levi refuses to answer. 

When the question is turned on you, you freeze momentarily, thinking of all the many things that you have wanted and wished for over the past year, things that are lost forever and things that you believed you would never have again. Mostly, you are desperately trying to avoid the thought that your biggest desire is currently sitting across from you, scowling at every scratch and stain on the table like they’ve personally offended them. With his inclination toward cleanliness, they probably have. Suddenly you know exactly what you want. You desperately want to replace the look with a smile. You'd trade the world to see him happy and healthy and yours. 

You can't fully admit that yourself, let alone everyone else, so you take a deep breath and push it all back down. You look up with a grin, “There was this bakery that we went to when we first came to Marley. Do you remember it? Sasha had to be physically restrained by these two bozos,” you jerk your thumb over towards Jean and Connie who are sporting bittersweet smiles at the memory. “Anyway,” you press on, “they sold these things - candied apples I think they were called - and they looked absolutely divine. I didn't have time to try one then but I've always wanted to. The bakery was destroyed in the Rumbling though, so I think I missed my chance.” You let out a dramatic sigh to sell the story. 

“Nah,” Onyankapon claps you on the back, “You can find candied apples plenty of other places, never fear, my friend.” 

“Good to know,” you smile at him and then turn to the table at large, “Next round is on me!” 

A cheer goes up around the table and the night drifts forward, conversations getting less serious, and much harder to follow due to the flowing alcohol, as the time passes. 

Eventually, you find yourself walking Levi home, just as you've done every night since he found an apartment and settled here. At first, it was because he needed help with simple tasks as he learned to adjust to his wheelchair. He stopped needing that help long ago. You tell yourself you kept coming out of a force of habit. You almost succeed in convincing yourself that it has nothing to do with the silly crush you've been nursing since you joined the scouts all those years ago. 

The space between the two of you is completely silent but it is a comfortable silence - one born of years of trust and companionship. You hum softly to yourself as you fill his kettle and set it on the stove, turning the gas on with a flick of your wrist. Next, you pull his favored tea leaves out of the box next to the sink and grab a well-loved teacup from a high cupboard. With nothing to do now except wait for the water to boil, you turn your attention back to Levi. 

He's still in his wheelchair, back turned to you, watching the fireflies twinkle beyond the window behind the kitchen table. 

“Levi?” You ask. 

He grunts in response. 

You roll your eyes at the back of his head but attempt to make conversation with him anyway, “You never answered Connie's question.” 

He sighs, “What question?” 

“The one about how you'd treat yourself now that the bulk of our work is finished.” 

“It's never finished.” 

“Yes, I'm aware. But I don't think it's so wrong to celebrate the little victories. To give yourself small rewards.” 

“Like candied apples.” 

Your face flames at the reminder of your less than honest response. You clear your throat, “Yes, like candied apples.” 

Levi sighs again, “I don't have anything like that.”

“No?” You question, “No fancy tea blends? Or specialized cleaning supplies?” He shoots you a glare over his shoulder but you giggle and continue, “No foods you want to try or places you want to see?” 

“No.” His voice is gruff but still you press on. 

“Come on Levi, there's got to be something you want. Some kind of guilty pleasure or secret desire that you've always wanted to indulge in.” 

He says your name sharply. Then, “There's nothing like that for me. Nothing I can have anyway.” 

The last sentence is directed to the floor in a whisper-quiet voice but you still catch it. “Oh?” You grin smugly and approach him with steady even steps, “So there is something you want, you just don't think you can have it.” 

“Drop it.” His tone is firm and might have scared you off a few years ago. These days you know that he's mostly bark with very little bite. 

You round his wheelchair and move to stand in front of him, “What could it be that makes you so defensive?” You tap your chin in thought, “Is it something embarrassing?” 

Levi whispers your name darkly. 

“Oh maybe it's something childish or overly sweet? Something unexpected for a man so serious?” 

He repeats your name with considerably more urgency. 

You don't stop, “Maybe it's something to do with a really strange hobby. Oh, or maybe-” 

“It's you.” 

You blink at him dumbly, sure you've misheard or misunderstood. “Pardon?” you ask. 

Levi gives his eyes another roll before looking you dead in the eye. “It's you.” He repeats, then elaborates, “It's you that I want. That I've wanted. That I wish I could indulge in. It's always been you.” 

You barely have the mental capacity to wonder if you've finally lost your goddamn mind and you certainly have no ability to provide any kind of response. The silence stretches on for just a moment too long. 

Levi turns his head away with a huff and grumbles, “Are you happy now?” 

“I'm sure I will be once I regain the ability to think.” Your breathing has picked up and you can feel your heartbeat fluttering in your throat as you try to comprehend what you just heard. You find yourself fixated on one thing in particular though, “God, Levi, did you really think you couldn't have me? I've been more yours than my own for I don't even know how long at this point.” 

At that, Levi turns back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. It could be the beginning of a smile or a smirk but it's too soon to tell which just yet. “Yeah?” He asks. 

Your confirmation is breathless, “Yeah.” 

His face lights up - it's definitely a smirk - as he crooks two fingers at you. “Come here then.” He nearly growls. 

You can't even begin to imagine a world where you do not follow that command so you do, feet carrying you the scant few centimeters until your knees brush his. 

Your head is spinning and your heart is out of control and you can't form a single coherent thought other than how beautiful this man looks. You have no idea where to go from here. 

Apparently, Levi does. 

Sturdy calloused hands grip your waist securely and yank you down, directly onto his lap. Your legs part on instinct, each bended knee finding a home wedged between the warmth of Levi's thighs and the cold metal rungs of the chair. You scoot forward a little to ensure that you aren't putting any weight on his bad knee and he grunts, rolling his eyes back slightly. 

The new position has you breathing in each other's air, your noses nearly brushing. A small wiggle also lets you know that your hips have aligned just so and that Levi is very much turned on right now. You’re glad you’re not the only one. Still, even with the proof pulsing warm and thick between your thighs, you have to ask, “So, just to clarify, when you said you want me, did you mean, like, in a platonic friendship way or. . . .” 

Levi hums low in his throat and leans forward the smallest amount to wrap his lips around the pulse point jumping in your neck. His tongue, teeth, and lips all work at the spot until you are certain a bruise has formed. 

He pulls back to watch your face with pupils dilated nearly wholly black and says, “I meant that I want to take you to my bedroom down the hall and fuck you deep into the mattress until your legs stop working.” 

You’re not sure what a heart attack feels like but you are 95% sure you’re having some kind of cardiac event right now. “Oh, um okay, I think we can do that,” you squeal a little as he moves to the other side of your neck. “Anything else?” 

“There's also the kitchen counter, and the sofa, and the wall, and the shower, and the floor.” You let out a small laugh but it quickly turns into a moan as Levi begins sucking on a spot behind your ear. 

“Is that all?” You pant into his hair. 

“No.” You think that the one word response is all that you will get - Levi is rarely a man of many words - but he keeps going, “I want to taste you.” Levi groans into your skin, “All of you.” He's nipping at your collar bones now and you are embarrassingly wet. You wonder if he can feel it through all of the layers of clothing between you. “I want to touch you.” His hands start doing just that- sliding up and down your sides firmly and deliberately over your thin shirt. “I want whatever you're willing to give me, however and whenever you're willing to give it.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at you. “I just want you.” 

In a moment that feels almost poetic in its timing, the kettle begins to whistle, the piercing shriek filling the room and drowning out the embarrassing whimpers that are falling from your lips. You're not sure whether you should feel relieved or let down by the kettle - you're half-convinced that if it hadn't gone off, you would have cum right there in Levi's lap, untouched and fully clothed. You're not sure how to feel about that. 

Still feeling a little dumbfounded, you scramble off of Levi to put a stop to the noise, stumbling like a newborn fawn just learning to use its legs. “Please please please hold on to that thought,” you beg as you frantically rip the kettle off of the stove and turn off the gas. You’re looking for somewhere to place the hot metal, desperate to return to Levi’s lap, and are failing spectacularly at coming up with any kind of sensible plan. You’re so distracted by your dilemma that you jump when you feel Levi’s clever fingers pry your own from the handle. In your panicked haste, you hadn’t noticed him rise from his chair and approach you. He sets the kettle back on the stove, having the sense that you lacked to set it on a different, unheated burner, and you set about putting the cup and unused tea leaves away. You’re just barely beginning to grab at the cup with fumbling hands when you're stopped dead by the feeling of Levi’s breath on your neck and the sound of his voice right next to your ear, saying your name in a downright sultry whisper. 

“Leave the dam cup,” He orders in a purr, “and take me to bed.” 

The shock of Levi being willing to leave a mess behind, no matter how small, is almost enough to shake you out of your lust-induced stupor but his hands kneading at your waist in increasingly aggressive grabbing motions pulls you back under rather effectively. You do your best not to collapse against him completely - you know it’s dangerous for his injured knee - but standing has become incredibly difficult. In lieu of anywhere else to go, you sway forward and brace your hands on the kitchen counter in front of you. 

“Levi.” It’s all you can manage and it comes out sounding strained and wispy. When he replies with your name, it is the total opposite: Growly and almost taunting in the way it lilts up at the end. 

You feel him lean over you, pressing his body to yours, slotting neatly into each dip and curve, molding himself to you. You can scarcely breathe but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he starts sucking bruising kisses into the side of your neck and drawing his teeth along your jugular. 

“Okay,” You steel yourself and push up from the counter, “Bed. Yeah, let’s - bed.” 

You feel Levi smile against the skin of your throat. He peels himself off of you and grabs your hand, pulling you down the hall without a word. 

Words remain in short supply once you reach his bedroom, mouths too busy working over each other’s skin. At some point, you lose your blouse and skirt and Levi’s shirt is quick to join them on the floor. You are vaguely aware of being pushed onto the bed but the rush of freefall is too entangled with the rush of Levi's lips sucking more bruises across your clavicle for you to tell the difference between the two. Once you’re settled atop his duvet, he moves lower, mouthing at the tops of your breasts and kneading them through the material of your bra with both hands. It is too much and not enough all at once. 

You push his hands away and tug at the garment. “Off,” you whine. 

Levi is quick to obey, sliding the straps down your arms and reaching underneath you to undo the closures. With the bra gone, you can feel the callouses from many years of ODM use scratching against the soft skin of your breasts while he continues to squeeze and grab at them. The roughness of his hands contrasts with the buttery-softness of his lips and tongue as he laves over your nipples and it feels like you're floating. You are, once again, in serious danger of cumming much too easily and much too soon. 

Levi comes up for air with a strangled gasp and, just like with the kettle, you’re not sure whether to be grateful or horribly disappointed at his timing. He looks at you for a moment, eyes flitting between your own. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a fevered, “Holy fucking shit,” before he dives back down. He lands below your chest this time and pecks kisses along your stomach before moving further south. His hands have traveled with him and are now forcefully holding your hips down while he kisses along the waistband of your panties. They snap against your skin as he pinches the material with his teeth and releases it. He rests his chin on your hipbone and looks up at you with a smirk as he repeats your earlier request, “Off.” 

Your hips lift as if they’re being pulled by some magnetic force and Levi slides the flimsy, and embarrassingly dampened, material off of your legs in one smooth motion. He groans and slides his hands up and down your thighs, staring at your soaked center. With a lurch forward, he gives you a quick kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth for just a moment, before dropping down between your parted legs. He keeps his tongue equally busy there, alternating between dragging agonizingly slow between your folds and flicking swiftly over your clit. Your head spins as he vacillates between the two motions, unsure of where you want him most. 

After a particularly sharp swirl against your entrance, your hands raise up towards his hair. You catch them at the last moment and fist them in the sheets at your side instead. Levi notices. He positively growls into your cunt and reaches out with both hands to grab one of your wrists in each. He brings them to his head without stopping the motions of his mouth. You tentatively curl your fingers into his hair and when you tense them slightly, he makes a satisfied humming sound that zips throughout your core and sparks up your entire nervous system . Your back arches and you push his face further into your pussy, desperate to feel it again. 

Levi adds his fingers to the mix, circling and pushing slightly against your hole while his mouth moves to focus on your clit. He sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as his fingers press further and further into your wet heat. He crooks them and hits a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He pauses his ministrations to huff a small pleased laugh at the reaction and then does it again. And again.

You back flies off of the bed in a sharp arch as he continues his assault with his fingers and mouth. You're pulling his hair and slamming his face into your heat and you know it can’t be comfortable but you don’t think he minds too much based on the way he doubles down, increasing speed and intensity in his thrusting and sucking. It builds rapidly until it destroys you. You fall apart over his fingers and mouth, letting loose a scream that drowns out the squelching of his fingers and the slurping of his tongue. You’re not sure how long it lasts, how long you lie there with your hips thrust skyward, eyes closed, mouth agape, and fingers knotted in Levi’s silky black locks. It feels like hours but you know it was probably only a minute or two. 

When you regain your breath and open your eyes, dropping your ass back to the mattress, Levi emerges from between your thighs. His hair is mussed, sticking up in all directions, his pupils are blown wide with lust, and the lower half of his face is shining with your release. You’ve never seen him look so messy. You’ve never seen him look so good. You just came harder than you have ever cum in your life but you still want him. 

“C’mere.” It barely makes it out of your wrecked throat but Levi smiles softly at you and moves to kneel on either side of your waist. When he leans down to kiss you again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. You groan into his open mouth, desperate for more. He hinges his hips, pressing his clothed length against your throbbing center and you both sigh at the feeling. He raises his hips, aiming to push against you once more, but he freezes and flinches in pain instead. The lust clouding your brains clears instantly, making room for concern instead. You reach up to cup his face tenderly, “Your knee?” You guess.

You just barely catch the frustrated look on his face before he drops it into your cleavage. “Yeah.” He confirms with a sigh, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fuck you into the mattress the way I wanted to. I’m sorry.” 

You pet his head softly, smoothing out the strands that you had put into such disarray. “That’s okay. You had plenty of other ideas anyway, right?” 

He gives a short bitter laugh. “I don’t know how possible any of those other ideas are going to be with my knee like this.” 

You hum. “Well I have an idea.” 

“I do.” You grin at him, “I am very vested in making your celebratory indulgence wish come true.” 

He lifts his head to look at you, “Do you, now?”

He returns your smile, “Let’s hear it, then.” 

“Hmm. I think I’d rather show you.” Without waiting for his response, you push him off of you onto his back and clamber over him. You straddle him, planting your hands on his chest and push your hips lightly into the tented crotch of his pants. A shocked gasp leaves his lips and you smile hugely. “Knee feel okay?” You ask. 

“Yeah.” It comes out strained, causing your smile to grow even more.

“Well then,” you say as you rock back against him again, “I think we should take these pants off and get the rest of you feeling okay too.” 

You move to unfasten them but are stopped by his hands on your waist and his breathless voice, “Wait, wait.” He pulls on your waist, trying to drag your body up towards his chest. “Come up here.” 

You're confused by the request but he looks so desperate that you follow it anyway, scooting up to settle below his pecks. Levi rolls his eyes and gives your waist another tug, “No,” he scolds, jerking his chin upwards, “Up here.” 

You gasp, lurching forward to steady yourself against the curved edge of the headboard in front of you. Levi wraps his arms around your thighs, securing you against him with your pussy dripping into his mouth and his nose brushing against your clit. 

You blink stupidly as his meaning registers, “Levi you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off, “This is my wish fulfillment, isn’t it?”

You flush at the reminder “Well yes but-”

“This is what I wish for. More than anything. So indulge me,” he tugs your waist a final time, “And sit on my face.” He punctuates the mind-melting sentence with a sharp tug down, forcing you to settle over the lower half of his face. 

He gets to work immediately, tongue thoroughly slicking up your folds before he plunges it deep into your cunt. The sensation of him lapping at your inner walls has you folding forward, which, in turn, causes your clit to grind against the bridge of his nose. The feeling is euphoric and you can’t help but repeat the motion, humping his face as he continues to fuck you with his tongue. 

You briefly have the thought that you shouldn’t press so firmly against his mouth and nose or squeeze your legs so tightly on either side of his head. The thought doesn’t stand for long, powerless against the flood of ecstasy that Levi brings you. It consumes you completely. Inhuman noises are ripped from your throat as he works faster, swirling his tongue inside you and raising his hands to cup your asscheeks, encouraging your grinding motions. 

Your second orgasm hits you all at once and you swear you're vibrating with the force of it as it spreads from your core to your extremities. You push yourself back to free Levi, settling at the top of his chest and leaning back with your hands planted beside his hips. He hums softly at the loss, chasing you to plant a chaste kiss at the top of your pubic mound. You smile at the sweet gesture and take a deep, rather shaky, breath. 

Slowly and deliberately, you reach behind you to teasingly rub a hand up and down his still-clothed cock, keeping eye contact the entire time. “You ready to let me take care of this now?” 

Levi bites his lip, still smeared with your release, and groans deeply. He reaches around you to unfasten his pants and begins to frantically kick them off. “I won’t last long.” He warns. 

You raise an eyebrow and ask incredulously, “And you think I will?” You scoot back enough to be able to lean down to kiss him, wiping at the mess across his cheeks absentmindedly as you do. “I can barely feel my legs and my heart is in overdrive. Levi, you’ve ruined me.” You sigh against his lips. “In the best way.” 

Inching slowly, you make sure to rub yourself against him all the way down to his lap, leaving a trail of his saliva and your cum in your wake. You give a little wiggle once you are positioned above his cock, jostling the appendage and causing it to twitch under you. Levi whimpers, an almost pathetic sound. 

“Please.” He pleads against your mouth as you lean down once more. 

It’s your turn to smirk, “Please what?” you ask. 

Something in his eyes sharpens and he replies in a raspy voice that is enough to get you wet all over again, “Sit on my cock and ride me for all that you’re worth.” 

Your breath hitches and you do your best to keep your voice level when you respond, “Well, this is your wish fulfilment after all.” 

Without further ado, you reach behind you to grasp his still twitching cock and hold it upright. You hesitate for just a moment before you move your hips down - he’s of average length but he is thick, and you worry about fitting all of that girth inside of you. It quickly becomes clear that you had no need to fret. Levi had prepped you well with his hands and his tongue and the stretch is pleasurably bearable. It is a tight fit, though - you can feel every ridge and crease of him as he pulls your hips down with a bruising grip on your waist, pushing himself as deep as possible. Your eyes roll back when he bottoms out, the plush head of his length brushing against a spot that ignites a fire in your lower belly. A strung-out groan drops from your gaping mouth and you hold yourself there for several seconds, reveling in the feeling of being stuffed full of Levi. 

Levi squeezes your waist in a silent command to move and you follow it without hesitation. You are determined to make this good for him, so you give it all you’ve got, lifting to the tip and dropping back down to the hilt in a steady, forceful pace. You lean back, bracing your hands behind you for better leverage, and let your head drop back as well. Your thighs burn and you are panting like a dog in heat but you do not allow yourself to stop. 

Levi keeps his hands busy, sliding from your waist, to your ass, to your thighs, and all the way up to your breasts, repeating the cycle over and over again, squeezing, caressing, and - in the case of your nipples, pinching - everywhere his hands trail. Eventually, one of his hands snakes its way down to your clit which has been bumping roughly against his abdomen with each bounce of your hips. He curls his fingers at the base of his dick at an angle that ensures you hit them with each drop instead. The digits swirl against the bundle of nerves in seamless dance. The feeling is too much for you and your rhythm stutters. You can feel your walls clenching around his length as you pause, gasping for air. Violent tremors wrack your body with each brush of his fingers and you feel yourself rushing toward a third orgasm. 

You give a weary attempt to continue your previous rhythm despite your fucked-out and overwhelmed state. Levi catches onto your exhaustion and grips your hips firmly. With his immense strength, he does the work for you - lifting you and slamming you back onto his cock in a perfect rhythm. You groan as you pick up the task of rubbing your clit and within seconds, you are cumming all over Levi’s cock with tears streaming down your face. A few more thrusts and Levi follows, emptying inside of you in a rush of warmth.  

He frowns back at you, “You did such a good job of fulfilling my wish, I'd feel shitty if we didn’t do the same for you. We’ll search every bakery in town tomorrow.” 

You collapse against his chest, concerns about his health be damned, and for a while, the both of you just lie there, panting against each other’s slightly sweaty skin. Levi is the first to break the silence, huffing against your hair before saying, “Fuck, now we have to find you some candied apples.”

A confused frown mars your face as you tilt your head to look up at him. “Huh?” you ask. 

He reaches up to brush a few stray hairs but you make it difficult for him when you start moving, pushing yourself up to better see him. You rest your elbows on the tangled sheets near his head and hover over him as you admonish him. “You’re such an idiot.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you plow on. 

“You really think my number one wish, the thing I wanted most, was fucking candied apples?” You look at him incredulously and find yourself laughing softly at his furrowed brow. “Levi,” you say with all of the love and patience in the word. His lips lift at the sound of it and you mirror the expression. “I only said apples because I had to give them something. My real wish was this.” 

Levi raises an eyebrow, “‘This’ as in. . . ?” He trails off, glancing down to wear the two of you are still joined, his release leaking out of you around his cock in a steady stream.

“No!” You swat playfully at his arm and he laughs, full-bodied and loud. 

“Well maybe a little.” you admit once he quiets. You reach up to trace the smile on his lips and continue, “But what I was really thinking about was this. Your smile.” He kisses your finger as it makes another pass. “My wish would be to see you smile, as often and as brightly as possible. To see you happy and healthy and safe. And,” you look down in embarrassment, “I really wanted to be the one to make you happy.” 

Levi gently cups your face to reestablish eye contact. The look on his face is everything you could have possibly dreamed of - Happy and relaxed. Maybe even in love. “You do make me happy,” he whispers to you. 

He pulls you down for a kiss. It's slow and measured and absolutely perfect. You hum as you separate and settle back against his chest. 

“Levi?” You ask after a scant few minutes have passed. 

“Yes?” 

“Can we still get candied apples tomorrow?” 

He laughs and you feel it reverberate through his chest. You can’t help the grin that the sound of his happiness draws from you and bury your head between his pectorals, eager to hear more. 

You fall silent, swivelling on the spot. As you knew from the moment he’d spoken, you’re met with the sight of Levi. A lump forms in your throat, unshed tears stinging behind your eyes as you take him in – half his face in bandages, leaving the stitches running across his cheek, his lips, all the way to his chin visible. He’s leaning heavily against the railings, bandaged fingers holding onto it just as tightly as you had only a moment ago. From here, you can’t see that he’s missing two of them.

“Levi,” you breathe, and next moment, you’re by his side. “You should be in bed, you--”

“Damn if I need you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t,” he scowls. His one visible eye narrows at you, his mouth pulling into a taut line. “Why is it that I have to hear from Armin fucking Arlert that you’ve been emptying your guts into the sea for the past – what? Two days? Three?”

You open your mouth to reply – to defend yourself, to lie, to wave it off – but Armin beats you to the punch. “Actually…then it’s been going on for longer than that.”

Both your and Levi’s attention immediately fixes on Armin. He freezes, eyes wide and gaze flickering, like a deer caught by a pack of wolves.

“What do you mean by that?” Levi snaps.

Armin looks from you to Levi and back again.

Levi clicks his tongue impatiently. “Spit it out, brat.”

Armin’s posture straightens, his jaw tensing. “You stopped eating breakfast about a week ago. When the Captain left with Zeke.”

You just stare at him, stunned that he even noticed.

“Commander Hange also told me you’d complained to them about…cramps. And uh-- spotting,” he continues, a faint blush rising to his cheeks, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “They said you’d been worried about having to deal with period cramps when we had to fight.”

You feel heat rise to your own cheeks. Pointedly avoiding glancing towards Levi beside you, you send a glare Armin’s way. “And why would they tell you that?”

Armin holds up his hands, palms facing up, like in a peace gesture. “They were just worried about you, that’s all! And they didn’t want to tell you before they were sure, in case they were wrong…” He trails off, biting his lip.

“Tell me what?” you ask.

“I don’t think that’s a conversation you should have right here.”

Speak of the Devil, you think, turning towards Hange. They’re walking towards you in a brisk pace, their steps lacking the usual spring, their eyes devoid of the usual spark. You guess Commanding a group of traitors trying to stop the end of the world does that to you.

“You, Levi, c’mere. We need to talk.”

Carefully, you sling one of Levi’s arms over your shoulder, wrapping your own arm around his waist to support him. He lets out a grunt of dismay but allows you to help him up the stairs to the cabins without further protest.

You know he hates being this helpless. You could see it in the way his mouth curled in dissatisfaction when you would hold the spoon for him, feeding him in bed when his hands were still so heavily bandaged that he couldn’t move his fingers. In the way he’d avoid looking at you, jaw clenched, a vein throbbing at his neck whenever you would help him to the bathroom, when he still couldn’t walk himself.

You’re grateful he even lets you help him.

When you reach one of the sleeping cabins, you first lower Levi onto the mattress, then take a seat beside him. You don’t comment on the way he presses his lips together, his abdominal muscles flexing beneath your touch, his fingers twitching – as if he’s in pain but refuses to let it show.

Hange pulls up a chair in front of you, resting their hands on their knees and raking a hand through their hair, messing up their already ruffled auburn ponytail.

“So, you wanted to talk,” Levi grits out. He leans his head against the headboard, glaring at Hange over the bridge of his bandaged nose.

Hange lets out a sigh, then looks at you. Their eyes are deep set, shadows pooling beneath like bruises. You wonder how long it was since they last slept properly.

“So, how long since you last had your period?” they ask.

You scowl, fisting the sheets beneath you. “Wha-- what does that have to do with anything?”

“Just tell me when.”

You roll your eyes. “When I was seventeen. That was ten years ago. Happy?”

“Hm, secondary amenorrhea. Not that uncommon, especially given the food shortages. And even more common for women in the military,” they mumble. They press the tips of their fingers together, looking thoughtful. “Okay then, let me ask something else. Have you experienced anything else out of the ordinary? Apart from the nausea, changes in appetite, cramps, and spotting?”

“And apart from the end of the world approaching, I assume,” you deadpan.

Your comment earns a twitch from Levi’s lips, but Hange doesn’t look amused. “Apart from that, yes.”

You pause, racking your brain. So much has happened lately. Eren, the Rumbling, Levi getting injured. Meeting Annie again. And Reiner.

Unable to think of anything specific, you shrug. “I’ve been tired as fuck, but that’s probably again, you know, because of the end of the world?”

Bottom lip sticking out and brows curled, Hange just continues to look at you. The silence stretches out between you, awkward and charged somehow, as if you’re all waiting for a bomb to be dropped.

Slumping their shoulders, Hange finally breaks the silence. “Alright, I’m going to be frank with you guys. I think…I think that you might be pregnant.”

Levi jerks in the bed beside you, his head hitting the headboard with a loud thud followed by a curse.

You, meanwhile, sit completely still. There’s a ringing in your ears, the only other sound reaching you besides the thundering of your heart. You feel cold-sweat coating your palms, and you frantically press them against your thighs to dry them off – and to keep them from shaking.

“…”

“…hey…”

“…let me just…”

“Talk to me, okay?”

Hange’s lips are moving, but you don’t hear what they’re saying. And soon, your vision blurs too, and you can’t even see that anymore.

You blink once, twice, then feel something hot and wet trickle down your cheeks. The mattress shifts beneath you, and calloused, cool knuckles brush over your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“S-s-stop,” you hiccup. “You’re gonna get the bandages wet.”

Levi scoffs beside you. “Tch. I don’t care.”

“And now we can add mood swings to the list,” Hange mumbles.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. Furiously, you try to wipe them away, but they just keep coming and gosh, why are you crying?

You take a deep, shuddering intake of breath. “It just doesn’t make sense. We took-- I mean, we were careful.”

“I took contraceptives and never finished inside,” Levi comments, making you choke on your spit.

Hange pinches the bridge of their nose. “At any other time, I would’ve been thrilled to learn about your sex life, Levi. But now, I’m just thinking you’re both idiots.”

“Oh, and how so?” you snap, clenching your fists at your sides, nails digging into your clammy palms.

“Ackermans are resistant to drugs, remember?” they sigh. “Levi can’t get drunk, anaesthetics don’t work on him – by the Walls, he didn’t even shed a single tear after I filled his shaving cream with onion juice.”

“You what?”

“I’ll need to do a pelvic exam to be certain,” Hange continues, ignoring the look Levi sends them. It’s impressive, how he can channel so much ire into a single, grey eye.

You feel yourself tense. “Is that really necessary?” you argue. “It’s not like it’s going to make a difference.”

Hange snaps their head up to look at you, and Levi looks like you’ve slapped him.

You glance between them. “What?”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Levi demands.

His voice is just a tad higher than usual, teetering on the verge of being shrill. You’ve never heard him sound like that before.

“Well, I’m going to help trying to stop Eren regardless,” you snap.

“Like hell you are.”

“Like you can stop me.”

“Watch me try.”

“Oh, I w--"

“Hey, guys, guys,” Hange interjects, cutting you off. They place a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s talk about this like responsible adults, alright?”

“It’s her not thinking this through,” Levi grits out. 

“Well firstly, then we’re not even one hundred percent sure,” Hange reasons. “As I said, I’ll need to do a pelvic exam first. And secondly…then that’s not solely your decision, Levi.”

Levi opens his mouth to argue, but Hange interrupts him again. “But that’s not to say that I don’t agree with you.” They turn their attention to you again. “You’re not stupid, I know that. Coming with us to fight – we don’t know what will happen. You might lose the child. You might both die. You know it’s a risk.”

You will yourself not to blink as you stare down Levi. He meets your gaze with a grim expression, eyes hard and jaw clenched. Neither of you willing to back down.

The silence is first broken when Hange clears their throat. “Ahem. Can I suggest something?”

In unison, you both whip around to glare at them, making them raise their hands in surrender. “Can I just do the pelvic exam first? Then we can figure out if this is just an unusual case of the flu or if you actually have something to argue about.”

You’re both silent for a while. You can see Levi’s jaw working, can hear his teeth grinding back and forth. But then, he closes his eyes, chest rising and falling – first quickly and uneven, as if he’s just run a sprint, but then slower, calmer. And when he opens his eyes again to look at you, they’re softer. The grey a little warmer. He moves his hand to place it above yours in a display of affection he rarely shows when it’s not just the two of you. “What do you want to do?” he asks.

You gulp, then glance over towards Hange. And then, you nod.

The last time Levi recalls being this restless was after the Wall Rose Invasion. Back when you’d gotten half your bones crushed by the Beast Titan and had to go through surgery, and he didn’t know whether you’d make it.

But it isn’t the same kind of restlessness as he’d felt back then – not exactly. Back then, red had clouded his vision, and he’d found himself in a misty haze of rage. He’d almost broken down the door to the operating room and had to be restrained by half the Scouts, and later, he’d paced back and forth in front of your room in the hospital wards, feeling empty. Like someone had ripped out his guts and left a gaping hole in their wake. 

But now, he isn’t angry. He’s not feeling empty. No, it’s like someone stuffed him full to the brim with emotions he doesn’t know how to contain. Surprise. Confusion. Happiness. Excitement. Dread. Joy. Fear. Awe. Pride. Anxiety. Gratefulness. Anticipation.

And he doesn’t even know if it’s true yet. If you really are carrying his…child. Just thinking the words makes his heart thrum loudly in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears and drowning out every other sound as he, just for a split second, imagines it.

How it would be like with you, belly round and breasts heavy with milk.

You’d look so pretty, he’s sure of it. The only downside would be that he’d have to take you from behind when you grew too big – not because he doesn’t enjoy that too, but because he prefers to see your face when he makes love to you. When he makes you cum around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut and your lips parting as you cry out in pleasure.

And he imagines how it would be after, when the bump has been replaced by a living, breathing, human being. Such a tiny person, looking like the perfect blend between him and you – or just like you, he wouldn’t mind that either. In fact, he knows they’d be perfect regardless – because how could something created from his love, from his devotion to you, be anything but?

He lets out a small huff.

Tch. Since when did he turn this sappy?

The door to the cabin creaking open snaps him out of his daydreams. The look on your face – your pale cheeks, the hard pull of your mouth, the crease between your brows – tells him everything he needs to know.

So, it’s true.

He watches as you walk over to the bed, expecting you to take a seat on the edge – like you’ve done these past days, to hand him water or feed him or just to keep him company. But instead, you crawl over the mattress until you’re sitting beside him. Your warmth seeps into his veins, making it feel like he’s melting. When you lean your head against his shoulder – slowly, carefully, so as not to hurt him – he turns to press his nose against your hair.

You smell sweet – like a spring meadow just after rain has fallen – but also with a slight tang to it, like iron. Probably from your time in the military, handling ODM gear and blades and thunder spears daily.

“I’m going with the others,” you tell him. It’s not a question, but a statement.

“Well, so am I,” he says.

You snap your head up to look at him. “Levi, you can’t. You’re still injured, you can barely walk--"

“If the woman pregnant with my child insists on going to war, damn if I’ll let her go without me,” he growls. “Besides, I don’t need to walk. I’ll be using the gear.”

“And how are you going to handle the gear with only three fingers?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s not the point, Levi. The point is that you won’t be top of your game and I refuse to lose you because of your stubbornness--”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

You pinch your lips together. He’s almost never seen you cry before, but he knows you’re just about to break into tears again – your eyes red-rimmed and glossed over with a sheen of fury, lashes wet and glinting in the dim light from the small window beside you.

He feels his throat constrict with guilt – guilt and regret. It was never his intention to make you cry again, even if you’re probably more susceptible to tears now than you’ve ever been before. At least, he’s heard that can happen during pregnancies.

He leans closer to you, his forehead pressing against yours. The bandages are in the way, but he hopes you’ll still find some form of comfort in just being close – like he does.  

“If you go, I’ll go. If you stay, I’ll stay. How’s that?” he croaks, voice oddly strained by the emotions flooding through him.

“I…I don’t know, Levi.” 

He reaches up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin until you look him in the eyes. “We’ve been through everything else together…this is no different.”

You blink at him. A single tear rolls down your cheek, from the corner of your eye to the curve of your mouth.

He leans in again, intending to kiss it away, but then pauses. It occurs to him that he hasn’t kissed you – not really – since his injury. At first, it was because his lips were split in half, and it hurt as fuck just to talk. But now, even when they’ve begun to heal and talking has become bearable…he knows his lips will never be as soft, never as pleasant to you as they were before.

He hates to admit it, but it makes him self-conscious. 

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper, your breath fanning across his exposed cheek.

“Do you…” He trails off, gulping. His grip on your chin slackens, but you reach up to wrap your fingers around his wrist before he can pull away. Keeping him there.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he asks, then holds his breath. Dreading the answer.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you close your eyes, tilting your head slightly. Your hand moves to the back of his head, fingers gently curling around the longer locks falling over the short buzz at his nape. Carefully, you press your lips against his. Peppering him with kisses, from the base of his nose to the corner of his lip to his chin. Your lips move over the bandages and stitches, as if you don’t even notice they’re there.

And when you pull away again, you’re smiling.

“Of course, Levi. Always.” 

AN: So, this was a little spin-off from my longfic call my name posted on ao3! Hope you enjoyed reading🫶

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.

Midwinter dusk finds the square ablaze with lanterns, spilling warmth over frostbitten streets. Colour drips from every line and rafter, smudging away the memory of war.

It’s strange to hear thin music leaking from the inns, the sound winding out into the snow-choked square. Most nights, the only melodies here are the ones sung by the wind through broken shutters, or the harsh cadence of boots against cobbles. Everyone is too busy worrying about Titans to risk laughter in the open air—too busy counting rations, tallying losses, listening for distant rumbling that might mean the end. But tonight, for the space of a few fragile hours, the world inside the walls lets itself forget.

Song slips through the doorways; someone strikes a tambourine, and for once, no one flinches at the noise. There’s a kind of defiance in it—a refusal to let fear claim every corner, a hope as fragile as the lanterns themselves.

You stand on the edge of the square with your collar turned up, the ache in your thighs still echoing from yesterday’s expedition, and let yourself watch the scene for a little while before you slip into the crowd.

Levi is already there, half a head shorter than the milling townsfolk but twice as noticeable. He stands by a cart stacked with paper lanterns, arms folded, jaw set in that line that means he’s trying not to scowl. The world brushes past him—children shrieking, old women offering bread, the flick of laughter that doesn’t belong. He takes up less space than any man you’ve ever known and somehow commands more of it. The lanterns throw gold onto his face, making his eyes look almost gentle.

You step up beside him, and he glances at you, a sideways sweep of grey. There’s a dusting of snow in his hair. He doesn’t shake it off.

“Could be worse,” you say, nodding at the lanterns. “Could’ve made us dance.”

He grunts. “If that starts, I’m leaving.”

You let yourself smile. The truth is, you’re both bad at celebrations. After years of war, every crowd feels like a formation, every cheer like a warning. But the lanterns are beautiful, in their way—bright paper bobbing above old scars and new hope, a town stitched back together with wishes and string.

Someone thrusts a slip of paper at you, a stub of charcoal for writing. “Your wish,” they say, and you take it without thinking. The paper is thin, nearly translucent, its edges curled from handling.

You glance over at Levi. He hasn’t taken one. Of course not.

“You’re supposed to write your New Year's wish down,” you say, waving yours.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—a tell you’ve learned to read, the way his right hand curls tighter, like he’s still gripping the hilt of a blade.

“Then write yours. Just don’t waste any wishes on me,” he says, flat, almost brusque.

You arch a brow, the old bravado slipping in. “What if I want to?”

“Then you’re more of an idiot than I thought.” He says it quietly. It stings more than it should.

You write anyway. You keep it simple. The sort of thing you could almost say out loud, if only you had the nerve: Let me stay by his side. Let there be days that aren’t filled with loss. Let him want me the way I want him, even if he never says it. You fold the wish once, twice, then quickly press it into his palm, before you have time to second-guess yourself. His skin is somehow warm even in the cold. He glances up at you, unreadable, then his fingers close around the paper.

For a second, you’re sure you feel something pass between you—raw, unspoken, almost enough to make you forget the crowd.

He tucks the paper into his jacket without reading it.

**********

The square grows louder as midnight approaches, the air thick with frost and anticipation. Lanterns go up, one by one, children chasing each other in the pale spill of light. You watch them from the shadow of a ruined arch, arms wrapped around yourself, counting your breaths.

Levi joins you, close enough that his shoulder presses yours. He doesn’t look at you, but the set of his jaw is softer now, the line of his mouth less severe.

“Crowds bother you too,” he says.

“You know how it is,” you answer. “Always feels like something’s gonna go to shit.”

He makes a noncommittal sound—both an agreement and an apology. The lanterns float higher, orange and crimson, each one a thread of possibility in a sky that’s seen too much sorrow.

You break the silence with a question: “Did you have any New Year’s wishes back when you were young?”

Levi doesn’t answer right away. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, the tips of his ears red from the cold. Finally, he says, “Wasn’t much to celebrate where I grew up. People were more interested in picking your pocket or putting a knife in your back.”

Something inside you softens, your own breath clouding the air between you. It’s not pity but a dull ache, knowing how much was stolen from the boy he used to be.

“Sounds like you learned early not to trust anybody.” You hesitate, then add, “I’m glad you made it out.”

He shrugs, the movement small. “Luck of the draw. Out of the Underground, straight into Titan's jaws.”

The bitterness in his tone settles over you, heavier than the cold. You look away, letting your eyes trace the edges of the square—the small knots of people huddled close, laughter flaring up bright and loud. It’s odd, seeing so much joy pressed into one night, when you know how easily it can all be lost. Survival still isn’t safety—not for him, not for anyone.

The ache in your chest twists a little tighter, sharp and useless.

“Maybe it’s safer not to hope at all,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can call them back. They hang there—soft, uncertain, too honest for a night like this.

He looks at you, eyes darker than the sky around you. “I’m not sure it is...”

You watch the lanterns drift—slow, endless, paper bellies swollen with heat and dreams. Some collapse, flames eating through them; others soar, fragile and stubborn.

“I used to wish for things I can’t even remember now,” you admit. “Mostly peace. Sometimes more. A husband, a family. Lately… I just wish for mornings with hot tea and no bad news...” You pause, meet his eyes. “I wish you’d let yourself be happy, even just once.”

He doesn’t move, but you feel him breathing—careful, measured, as if he’s afraid of breaking the moment.

“You got nothing better to wish for?” he asks, sceptical, almost incredulous.

You let yourself respond, because it’s a new year and you’re tired of pretending. “Not anymore. And you’re the only person I've ever truly cared about.”

He says nothing, just keeps staring straight ahead, watching the lanterns drift. You’re about to look away—already feeling the ache in your chest—when you feel his hand. It finds yours in the dark, rough and hesitant, fingers settling over your knuckles with an awkward kind of purpose. It shocks you, the warmth and weight of it, so careful but so undeniably real. For a second, you almost wonder if you imagined it.

You don’t look at him, afraid you’ll break the spell, but you let your fingers shift just enough to hold him back. The rest of the world drops away, leaving only his hand in yours—a small, clumsy promise you never thought you’d get.

**********

When the midnight bell tolls, cheers erupt across the square—sudden, loud enough to make your shoulders tense. Old habits die hard; both of you instinctively glance toward the wall’s dark silhouette, eyes scanning the perimeter for movement, half-expecting the distant thunder of something that isn’t celebration. But there’s nothing out there—just the whisper of snow, the lanterns bobbing in the night breeze.

You both stand silent as the crowd surges around you, and for once, there’s no call to arms, no emergency. Just the hush between heartbeats, and the pressure of Levi’s hand, solid and unfamiliar, wrapped around yours. The music trails off, thinning note by note as midnight settles in; Trost is a soft blur of light and shadow, the cold settling, but hope blooming quietly in its wake.

Levi shifts beside you, clearing his throat. He pulls your wish from his pocket, unfolding the paper with careful, scarred hands. His eyes flick over your words, a small pause betraying his hesitation. When he looks up, the scowl you’re so used to seeing is gone.

You hold his gaze, your own heart stuttering.

“I told you not to waste your time,” but even as the words come, you realise he’s moving closer—subtle, intentional, closing the space between you in a way that sets your nerves alight. Your breath catches, pulse quick and insistent at the base of your throat.

You breathe him in—tea, snow, steel, and something sweet and clean beneath it all. “Not a waste,” you whisper.

His lips brush yours, feather-light, a question trembling in the air. You can feel his hesitation, the restraint in every muscle, and you’re suddenly aware that you’re holding your breath, terrified that one wrong move will break whatever fragile thing has gathered here.

You’re not sure if you should close the distance or let him do it, not sure if this is permission or a warning, not sure if you’ll ever be braver than you are right now. The pause stretches—uncertain, electric, everything in you wanting and afraid all at once.

And then, finally, he closes the gap.

The kiss is gentle at first, more relief than hunger—two people learning a language they’ve only ever dreamed of. Levi’s lips are cold but soft, his hand settling at your jaw as if anchoring you to the world. He kisses you like the soldier he is—cautious, disciplined, but when you sigh against his lips, something in him gives way.

Lamplight flickers across his cheek, snow tangles in his hair, your breath mingles in the narrow space between hope and regret.

When you break apart, his forehead rests against yours, his hand is warm and solid at your back. For the first time, you find yourself believing in something new. Something that isn’t just death, or sorrow, or the dreadful certainty of the Titans beyond the walls.

 It all started with a conversation about bumblebees.

“You’d be a cute bumblebee, you know,” you said to Levi.

“Tch. Why would I want to be a bumblebee? All they do is roll their fat asses around in flowers.”

“They help the earth!” you said. “Without them, we wouldn’t have flowers."

Levi hummed in response. While he made dinner, you decided to scroll online to find a bumblebee costume. You giggled when you found one.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You’ll find out soon!” you said after you’d purchased the costume.

Levi sighed. “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

You grinned. “Nope! You love it when I surprise you!”

Levi looked at you, mildly annoyed. “No, I don’t.”

You sighed. “Trust me on this one?”

“Just this once.”

A few days later, the costume arrived at your apartment. You smiled as you put it on your bed. Levi walked into the bedroom and stared at the bee costume.

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“It’s a bumblebee costume! I told you you’d make a cute one.”

“Send it back. I’m not putting that stupid thing on.”

“Please?” you asked.

“No.” He said it with a finality that made your heart sink. A few days later, you’d had a shitty day at work. Levi had gotten home earlier than you and made dinner. You ate slowly, savoring the taste of the pad thai.  He sure can cook, you thought. You cleaned up after dinner and went to your bedroom.

You opened the door and saw Levi sitting on the bed in the bumblebee costume. He had his arms crossed and very much looked like he’d love to burn the costume. You beamed at him—he’d put it on to surprise you. You felt a little better already.

“I knew you’d be a cute bumblebee!” You went over to him and cupped his face in your hands. You took out your phone and took a picture.

“What the hell was that for?” Levi asked, frowning.

“You look adorable, and thanks for putting it on. I had a terrible day at work, and it made my day to see you in it.”

It was Levi’s turn to cup your face in his hands and give you a kiss. “You’re welcome.” You could tell he still wasn’t happy with the costume, but he endured it for your sake.  He grunted softly after a moment. “This isn’t gonna last long. I feel like an idiot in this thing.”

“Unless I take it off for you.”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”

You smiled, straddling him. “You heard me.”

He looked at you askance for a moment, then agreed. “Whatever gets this dumbass thing off me faster.”

“Now, Mr. Bee, I heard you were having some problems with your stinger. Can you take it out and show me?”

“Tch. I don’t whip it out for anyone. You gotta work for it.”

“Alright then, challenge accepted.” You kissed his lips softly, deepening it a few minutes later. Levi moaned and pulled you closer, pressing his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues chased each other back and forth, and you both sucked on each other’s tongues and lips. Your hands ran down his arms, squeezing his biceps. You kept exploring Levi’s back with your hands and felt how hard his muscles were underneath the costume. Levi’s hands wandered down your back as well. You both pulled away to breathe.

“Can I touch your pretty ass and tits?” He asked.

“Only if I can touch yours too,” you responded.

Levi nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Your hands immediately reached for each other’s asses, grabbing and squeezing them. You hissed at Levi’s hands gripping your ass for dear life. He kneaded it in his palms and pressed you forward, rocking you against his clothed cock. He sighed in pleasure at the feeling of your clothed pussy rubbing against him. You lay him back against the bed. You unzipped the costume and helped Levi shimmy out of it.

“Thank God,” he sighed in relief.  You noticed he only had his black boxers on underneath the costume, and you smiled at the sight of his toned body. You ran your hands up and down his chest, squeezing his pecs. You traced his abs and sides with your fingertips. Levi closed his eyes and moaned softly. He returned the favor, squeezing and kneading your tits gently. He bounced them in his hands, enjoying the sight. “So damn soft,” he murmured.

You ran a hand into his hair and rubbed his scalp gently. You felt him relax underneath you, and you knew he was a goner.

“Now will you show me your stinger, Mr. Bee?”

“Alright. You’re so insistent.”

“I just want to help. Maybe a couple of strokes will get it to come out?”

Levi’s eyes darkened. “Maybe,” he said breathlessly.

“Can I?” you positioned your hand above his crotch. He nodded in response, and you cupped him through his boxers. He moaned and watched you stroke his cock. You felt him get hard as you gently moved your hand up and down his length. He kept moaning softly.

“That’s it, you feel so good,” he said. After a couple of minutes, he motioned for you to move. He pulled his underwear off and flung them somewhere. He chose to sit instead, leaning back on his forearms. He sucked in a breath as you positioned your mouth at his tip. “Suck it,” he said, voice dropping a few octaves. You nearly purred at how deep his voice got, and you felt yourself get wetter. You licked his tip and flicked your tongue against it. Levi moaned loudly, fingers tangling in your hair. You took him in your mouth, moaning at how thick he was.

Levi let out another moan as you continued to suck him, bobbing your head up and down his length slowly. “Don’t stop,” he said between pants. You took him deeper into your mouth, swallowing around his tip as it touched the back of your throat. You breathed through it and found your nose touching his pelvis shortly thereafter. Levi let out a wanton sound, and it made you moan around him again. You felt your panties getting wetter as you continued to suck him.

“I want to pound into your mouth. Can I do it?”

You gave him a thumbs up. Levi understood your nonverbal signal for ‘yes’ and grabbed your head gently in his hands. He pulled your head back a little and started thrusting into your mouth slowly. You kept moaning as he pushed himself deeper, then gave you room to breathe through your nose. He slowly increased his speed, offering you a few chances to catch your breath by pulling you completely off him.

You dove right back in after a couple of deep breaths, eagerly swallowing him. He held your head still and fucked you, listening to your noises as he bullied your throat with his cock. He watched as spit dripped down his thick cock and heard the wet noises it made as you played with his wet balls.  He heard your increasingly wet noises as you took him, and he couldn’t get enough. He kept his punishing pace, hitting the back of your throat roughly with each thrust.

“You feel so good. Shit, I’m gonna come!” He panted and grunted as he continued to fuck your throat and mouth. “Wanna feel you swallow every drop I give you,” he said through pants. He began to whine and whimper as his orgasm approached. You felt his balls lift, and you continued to stroke and knead them gently. Levi moaned and whined again, and he pushed your head down into his pelvis. He grunted and repeated your name as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him until his cock stopped twitching and relaxed, pulling off him with a wet pop.

“Guess my stinger still works,” he said, panting. “God, you’re so good.” He studied you for a moment, then said, “You might wanna get some lube and condoms—we’re gonna be a while. Wanna have you feel me inside you tomorrow and be so sore after that you can’t walk. Sound good to you?”

You smiled, nearly running to the bathroom. “Sounds great!” you chirped, returning to the bed with condoms and lube.

Levi kissed you passionately on the lips. He smiled softly at you. “Get comfortable, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel as good as you made me feel.” He waited a moment before saying, “Word on the street is that your honey’s the best.” He looked like he wanted to melt into the bed for saying such a ridiculous thing.

You laughed and replied, “You gonna spear me with your stinger?”

Levi stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “We need to stop with the shitty bee puns.”

Your smile widened. “Never.”

Levi cupped your jaw in his hand. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“’Bee’ mine?”

Levi chuckled, then smirked. “Lay down, bee-autiful. I’ll take care of you.” True to his word, Levi gave you a night you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Top divider by: @pxrce-lain