#nela's.mailbox

After an awkward first meeting, like two teenagers crushing on each other, your braincells didn’t stop scheming against you, forcing his image into your head 24/7.

Even though Levi knew how to fix and adjust his clothes to fit, he still frequented your shop just to see you. “Are you ok?” you queried with a tinge of concern enveloping your voice. There was something off in his eyes, and then reality struck you. It’d been a few days since the Survey Corps had returned from an expedition. His first expedition, and judging by the look on his face, it seemed as if part of his soul had been sloughed from him. He said nothing, and neither did you. You approached him, and you found no words of encouragement that could mend the wound in his heart, so you dusted off your last resort: a lifesaving embrace. And Levi collapsed in your arms and let out the tears that had been pent up in his chest for days. For some strange reason, crying in your arms didn't feel so terrible, it was rather comforting. When his eyes dried out and there were no more tears left to shed, you invited him to your place for hot chocolate, cheese and bread. And he learned one of your weird quirks: putting pieces of double cream cheese in your steamy hot chocolate, wait until it softened to pull it out with a fork and nab it in one gnaw. He didn't judge you, yet he didn't share your odd tastes either. That night he confided his past in you.

“What are these?” Amusement tugged the corners of his lips upwards when he spotted the two plushies sitting on the sofa in your living room. “What’s wha–” Your face burst into flames when you saw what he was holding in his hands. A few days ago, you had made two plushies, one looking like him, with his scouting uniform, whose cape could be removed; and the other undeniable you, with your smile, your messy hair in a bun, and a red dress. You had put Velcro on their hands so they could hold on to each other. “Why is mine frowning?” he snapped the hands apart and tucked Plushie Y/N under his arm. “I wanted them to be the most realistic as possible.” You taunted, snatching plushie Levi from him. From that night on, you were never separated again. ‘You’ slept in his bed, and ‘he’ on yours.  

Levi carried on with his visits, with the excuse he was in town to stash tea and cleaning supplies, and had extra time to spare. Truth is, he didn’t even have space in his office to store all the cans of leaves and herbs and the jars of detergents. He had three brand new brooms dozing in his closet and a fourth one would join them soon. Sometimes he would purposely remove buttons from his shirts so as not to be so obvious. At least he tried.

You were the one who gave a little boost to the relationship when you asked him to go on a date for the first time. Levi stared at you with wide eyes that threaten to fall off to the floor, agape, cheeks suffusing in a deep shade of red. Levi took you to the most famous teashop in town. Blushing and nervous, barely looking at each other, talking about everything and nothing, playing footsies under the table to relieve the tension. You had fashioned a loosen mint green dress with puffy sleeves that cinched around slightly above the shoulders; the skirt hem billowed around your knees. It was perfect for a summer date. Levi wore a white cotton muslin button up shirt, brown slacks and mahogany loafers. As you walked by the main square on your way back to your place, the music enfolded you, leavening the evening; you offered him a hand, asking him to dance. “Here?” he looked at you in bewilderment, and you nodded. He was a bit embarrassed, dancing in a public space. He counted the steps in his head, trying not to lose the thread and the rhythm of the music, but dancing was not a necessary skill to survive in the Underground city, it wasn’t within the scope of Kenny's lessons. But with your head resting on his shoulder, and barely a couple of stomps, the edges of reality blurred, narrowing your world until only the two of you remained. And then you kissed him, and he knew that his place in the world was next to you.

Levi spent his weekends with you in town, at your place, although at first, he slept on the couch. (He didn't really sleep, he just read and drank tea) Sometimes, he would sneak into your room and sit on the wing chair, and watch you sleep, tempted to fondle you, but he didn't want you to think he was a wacky pervert, it's just that he had never been so attracted to anyone in his whole life. Little by little he began to drop off clothes, books and teapots at your house.

And how can we forget Hange who, with a smug glance and waggling brows, kept on nagging him and bombarded him with questions that were none of their business.

“When will I meet her?”

“Meet who?”

“The cause of your smiles.” They smugly winked at Levi and strutted off giggling.

He had to avoid the craze of smiling after hours, although with you on his mind all the time it was a hopeless task.

When you first met Hange, they squeezed you in a tight hug you swore your head would pop up. And of course, they couldn’t keep their mouth shut. Few days later, the rumors crouched in every corner of the Survey Corps Headquarters: someone had stolen the ever-stoic captain Levi’s heart. So, he had no choice but to introduce you to his friends and comrades. He had kept you a secret, not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted to avoid people badgering and pestering. Questions and comments like How a sunshine like her could fixed her eyes in a grumbling man like him? or she must be nuts prowled the corridors.  But, what could be done? Who can contradict the heart? With your easygoing, charismatic and positive personality it was not difficult to earn everyone's affection.

The first time you made love was on his first birthday you spent together. When you asked Levi what he wanted to do for that special date, he bluntly answered: 'nothing'. Levi didn't celebrate his birthday, it brought back bittersweet memories. Nonetheless, you spent weeks setting ideas to organize something memorable with Hange’s and Erwin’s aid. You left him notes and clues that led him to you. You had reserved the entire tea shop he used to frequent, and together with his squad, you decorated the entire venue. You would have loved to fill everything with flowers, but winter has its charm too. Miche and his squad, as well as Hange’s came along for the surprise party you schemed. Later, when everyone left, tears peeked at the corners of his eyes. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and muttered a ‘thanks’. But the celebration went on; back home, you popped open a bottle of wine and amid smiles, hiccups and flustered faces you stripped off your clothes, one by one, drawing a path from the living room to your bed. You lost count of how many times he asked you if you were sure and ready because he wouldn't forgive himself in a thousand lifetimes if he hurt you. And yes, Levi asking for consent was fucking arousing and pantie-drenching. Hands and lips that searched and found, exploring valleys and edges and depths, insatiable, etching every inch of your skin, every scar. Without looking away from your dilated pupils and his hand cleaving to yours, he slowly slid into you, delightful torment stretching your walls, and you knew right away that you were made for each other. He wiped off your tears and remained still for a moment, turgid and shaking, and dousing your face in kisses as your body adapted to the intrusion. Languidly, his hips began to roll, and the room filled with pants and moans and cries of pain that soon were coated by bliss. Glistening bodies, smell of sex; in his arms and in the sheets, you redrew heaven. When your orgasm coiled in your core, you knew his was right behind, and before he had the chance to pull off, your legs draped tight around him, making sure he’d leave his indelible mark inside you. Primal, instinctive and risky, you didn’t mind.

And in New Year’s your place officially became his too; to be fair, he only owned the basics, though you didn’t expect him to siege your kitchen with his vast collection of tea sets, and wedged room in the attic to store the exaggerated number of gallons of bleach. If he wasn’t jammed with paperwork, he’d come back to you every night; but if eyebrows had different plans for him, he kept his Y/N plushie with him at the headquarters. He’d sit it in his lap as the quill nip scraped the paper.

His weekends were reserved exclusively for you and only you. On Saturdays you’d go to the market at the main square; Levi wouldn’t surprise you with flowers, but with fabrics and… cheese. Double-cream to be precise. You would spend the entire morning, wandering among the stalls, relishing in free samples and keeping an eye on the sales. Lunch was in Levi's stewardship while you sat at the countertop, pouring the wine and snatching any ingredient when he looked the other way; when he caught you red-handed, he'd snap your hand off, faking a sneer. Then, he’d cage you in his arms and kiss you and wedge between your legs, sneaking a hand under your dress to find out you’re not wearing anything underneath. You’d make the most of your time while the stew finished cooking. Thrusting into you, digging his fingers into your fleshy butt cheeks, his slushy groans and your cloying moans ensnared in a chaotic symphony. Your arms wrapped around him, your legs imprisoned him as you nudged his lips with yours. After the appetizer, you have the main course. Then a bath, and nap all the afternoon. For dinner, you’d go to a restaurant with terrace, eat a full course meal (never forget wine!) and saunter back home, pinkies entwined, followed by the whistle of the lamplighters. During summer nights, you’d take a detour by the park to rejoice in the music of street performers.

Sundays were sacred, booked fully for love making. Moans and pants and the pungent smell of sex wavered in your room before the firsts whips of morning light seeped through the windows. You didn't need words to communicate because the flesh spoke louder and clearer. From the bed you moved to your desk, to the chair, to the bathtub, and there you stayed until the skin looked and felt like a raisin.

Months later, the unimaginable happened, Wall Maria was breached. That morning when they bells clanked and the gate opened, cold shivers pricked over your spine. Another defeat for the Survey Corps. A hundred soldiers had departed for the mission and only about twenty of them returned. They were heading to the capital to drop their reports. But you had a hunch that some things were about to change, soon. A burning sensation in your chest drove you back home, and you packed canned food and filled the waterskin; the air was dense, too dense, but nobody else seemed to notice. Yelps and gasps slithered through the window and right then you saw it, a red monstruous face, and hands gripping the walls. For minutes, the clock stopped ticking; a clog in your throat snagged your breath, and dread welded your legs to the floor. Debris scampered in the air, and tears streamed down your face, fearing that you’d never see him again. Your survival instinct switched on and you fetched your improvised supply kit as well as Levi’s plushie. He tugged at the hem of your thoughts, you needed him, you wanted him by your side. Anguish stung you every time you said goodbye to him before he parted on an expedition, and you wished you could tie him to your bed to never let go. But humanity needed him too; people had tossed such boulder over his shoulders.

After the evacuation, Levi found you in the refugee center and the knot in his chest unraveled, allowing air to fill his lungs again. A few scratches and bruises etched in your skin. You moved to an apartment in Trost, and months later, with the savings you managed to bring with you, and Levi’s help too, you flipped open the sign of La retoucherie de Y/N.

You had to quickly adapt to the routine, to the new city. As in Shiganshina, Levi tried to spend the nights at home with you, making every second count. Every time he came home you greeted him with a kiss, a hug and a cup of tea. You had learned to steep it the way he liked it. And he never forgot your cheese and chocolate, although he still didn't understand that odd peculiarity. "It melts in your mouth," you always said. “It sweetens the cheese and adds a bit of saltiness to the chocolate.” Nope, there was no way to convince him.

In your spare time, you made shirts and pants, and knitted scarves for him. It was your duty to make sure Levi was always fashionable.

“What the–” Levi gaped as soon as he spotted the new plushie member of your plushie family lying in bed. It had your eyes and his hair and a yellow onesie. He gulped and his eyes drifted to you, you were simpering, the joy clouding your eyes glazed his. It all made sense, the sudden glow in your cheeks, the extra pounds in your hips and your oversensitive breasts. “When?” He wiped off his tears and rushed to you, swallowing in his arms and smothering your face in kisses. “Three months, the doctor said.” You giggled at the ticklish caresses. “Though, I don’t know how it didn’t happen before.” You shrugged. You spent the following months sewing onesies of different colors, bibs, baby hats and scarves, with matching dresses for you and shirts for Levi. Overprotective Levi took care of you for the rest of your pregnancy and the firsts months after the new ravenette was born. He cleaned and cooked and did groceries, even though you swore you were perfectly fine; he suggested to hire someone to help you in the atelier, and you agreed only if he loosen up a bit. He couldn’t hold back his tears when he held his little bundle of joy in his arms for the first time, utterly proud of you too. He couldn’t believe someone so fragile and pure and beautiful was half him. (More like three quarters him). He had another smile (a toothless smile) to protect.

How Levi and Y/N met <3

The ravenette looks up at the rectangular wooden sign hanging on two golden chains above the entrance of the Atelier that funky-smelly-shitty-glasses suggested. La retoucherie de Y/N. He reads in the burned cursive letters and takes a deep breath before entering. A tiny welcoming bell rings above his head and he can’t help but squint. The place is a bit disorganized for his liking. On the sides are racks of dresses and jackets that look like they're ready to be turned in, while on the other one, across the main salon, there’s a shelve stacked with bolts of cloth of different colors and textures as well as spools of thread and containers with buttons, pins and clips. In the middle stands proudly a huge square table with measurement tapes glued to the rims on each side and a pile of unfinished projects that seems to come to life. Scraps of fabric and threads and yarns graze the floor.

Levi steers around the working table, cranes his head and peers over the monster of cloths, looking for any sign of life, waiting for an elderly woman to show up at any moment.

“Hey, sorry, I was in the back–“

Levi turns around and his eyes meet yours, clogging your words in your throat. You look at him, slightly gaping, but he harrumphs, and the edges of the real word are redrawn.

“How…how can I help you?” you stutter, fidgeting with a tattered thread on your shirt.

“Yes…uh,” Levi tries to find the words, but they won’t leap of his mouth, he’s enthralled in you, with your loosen shirt, baggy pants and messy bun, with tiny rebellious hairs pointing in all directions. When you tuck a lock of hair behind you ear, he spots the sunflower shaped pincushion tied around your wrist.

“Are you ok?” you query, tilting your head to the side and lifting an eyebrow.

Levi wakes up from his daydream, his cheeks fizzing hot. “I need to fix this.” He holds out his arm before him, the bag swinging in his hand from side to side.

“Sure, let me take a look.”

You draw out the content and hold up in the air the khaki leather jacket. “Survey Corps,” you utter for yourself and fold it back onto the table. Levi stands next to you, arms folded on his chest, gazing down, scuffing one boot-clad foot against the other as you finish taking out the garments that are dozing in the bag.

“Let’s take the measurements.” You chime, rummaging through the mess for a notebook and a pencil. On a blank page, you sketch two human figures, the front and the back, and some other scrawl. The metric tape tickles your nape as it slips off. “Stand still, back straight, arms on your sides.”

Levi nods and complies, trying to pull out his best poker face, but truth is, he’s afraid his own body would betray him.

“I said stand still, not hold your breath until you turn blue.” Your giggles hover over him, and shit, that’s the prettiest sound he's heard in his life. “Relax, I don’t bite. Unless you want me too.” You coyly wink, disarming him.

“Y/N,” he blurts by inertia, earning a wide-eyed glance from you. Without knowing why or what for, he just wanted your name to coil in the tip of his tongue. Maybe, his purpose was to taste it. He couldn't help but feel like an idiot, though.

“How-”

“It’s written in the sign.” One end of his lips quirks up, and his blood circulates again at its regular pace, but when he feels your hands ghosting over his linen clad skin, his heart begins to hammer in his chest, pumping his blood up to his cheeks.

“Now you know my name, it’s not fair I don’t know yours.”

“Levi.”

“Levi.” Your mellifluous voice caresses the syllables of his name, coating it in honey, and you cast a smile at him. “Are you new in town, Levi? I’ve never seen you around. I don’t mean to brag, but I know every single soul in this city.”

One of your svelte hands stops on his shoulder, the other one skimming his wrist, and you scrawl on your notebook; then a hand on his shoulder, the other whisking his neck, and again you take note. From his chest to his waist; then you swirl a finger in the air and he turns around. You write down the distance between his shoulders, then from his shoulders to his waist. His back muscles clench instinctively at the flimsy prodding. But he can’t help it, it’s as his body shears from his brain and acts at its own will.

“I was transferred from Mitras,” he lies and feels a prick in his chest, but it’s either that or confessing he’s a former thug who did things he wasn't proud of in order to survive.

Levi scratches his crinkled nose with his pinkie, tipping his head to the side, and suddenly, one after the other, each cell of his body combusts, and a good quantity of blood rushes southward when he feels your fingers brushing his butt as you try to measure the distance from his waist to his ankles.

Focus, you jerk, focus. He inwardly whacks his head, cursing at himself; whatever thread you pulled off him, he’s coming apart and can’t recognize himself anymore. Levi concentrates in dissipating his blood to the rest of his body.

“We’re done, Levi.”

You incorporate and sling the tape back around your shoulders, and Levi stretches his neck, first to the right, then to the left, to relieve the tension strangling him.

“Levi, it’ll be ready in two days.” You announce, scribbling his name in three pieces of paper, and pin then to each item.

Levi nods, tugging at the collar of his shirt; a blush suffuses his cheeks. He doesn't mind you wearing out his name; hearing it fall from you is becoming a tortuous vice.

Your eyes hook on his back as he struts out of the shop and a tingling sensation creeps across your face.

Right then, it never crossed your mind that this newcomer to the city would become your favorite person in the world. The cause of smiles and laughs, the tickles in your stomach, the best orgasms, and one or another anguish.

I don't feel the hours when I'm with you I love it because you see everything positive I love your birthmarks and your scars Tell me in this time where did you go That I couldn't find you

I don't know if it was God or maybe it was destiny The only thing I know; we're on the right track That I'll be with you for lifetimes to come Remembering who you are in case one day you forget For you I would do that and more

And if you didn't exist I'd invent you Same heart and the same smile You're my reason, my peace, my sunshine, my wheat Just thank you for being with me

Here are my arms, feel safe That for your fears I've got the cure You're what I've been asking God for so much I won't let you down, trust in me alone